The Chronicles of Chill: Seasons of Empowerment

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A cloud gathered over the land as Gambrach departed from the Kingdom and lo, it was a cloud of whisperings. There were whisperings of a conditional abdication and severe resistance thereto from the high chiefs in the North. There where whisperings of a mutiny from the garrison. So loud where the rumours of the mutiny that the Lord General Rah Tye of the Dubailese Skyscraper Battalion had to stage a ceremony of fealty to the throne of Gambrach.

“We declare this day that our swords are for the Throne!”

“Uhm…those were the whisperings of which we were fearful” the people responded. “Ah, I see what you mean”, said the General. “What we mean is that we stand behind the Throne, ready at a word to strike!”

“Dude! Thou doth not make it better, bruh” the people replied again.

“Oh, come on! All right, no more euphemisms! We pledge allegiance to the Throne and shall leave matters of statehood to the Kings and counsellors in the land. Happy, now?”

Yea, did the people heave a sigh of relief. But it was only momentary, for the emissary of the Queen of Jandinia came to the people with a message.

“Behold! I come from Jandinia with a message for thee!” the emissary proclaimed.

“You bring news from our King?” the people asked him.

“No, I bring word from her majesty the Queen.”

“Oh, thou bringest a message from Lady Yeeshah?”

“No, my Queen. The Queen of Jandinia. The word from her throne is…”

“…but who you epp?” the people interrupted. “We want to hear from King Gambrach.” But eventually they let him speak, and he also had a warning for the garrison lest they mutiny.

Even Shiwajun spoke against these whisperings. “Behold, and I kid thee not. It shall be a heck of a Wahala Morghulis upon any mutineers. They may have all the swords and horses and arrows and shields and spears, and we may have nought but the hearts in our chests, yet shall our chests outnumber their swords and yea shall a holy Wahala Morghulis be unleashed on any soldier that seekest unfortunatecy.”

And the people were like, “Waaaaawu! Whose chests wouldst thou defend the kingdom with? Thine, surely?” And the thoughts of their chests being pierced with the armoury of mutiny filled them with sadness. Behold, news of their sadness came to the lesser kings. And they purposed in their hearts to do something to lift the sadness.

And yea, it was King Autumn of the kingdom of Ben Way who first came to the rescue of his people. My people need power, he thought. Power to be better. Power to do better. Power to resist the incursions of the land-grabbing herdists. Iskaba! Ben Way will be a flower to shower the people with an hour of empower! No longer shall they cower. Yea, they shall be like Jack Bauer in this hour that I empower. Iskelebete! I say they shall tower and their mood shall no longer be sour! Iskoloboto!!!

And in a frenetic fulmination of phantasmagoric and philanthropic forthcomingness, King Autumn ordered that each young man in the kingdom be given a wheelbarrow to ferry people around, as alternatives to the hackney chariots. For, he reasoned, if they ferry their fellow citizens about long enough, they shall grow in my biceptual  and triceptual stature. And yea, will they be empowered. Behold, I have fulfilled the prophecy of the great prophet, Dijanimus Khalidius – “major key”.

It was a farce. But the Lovengers, starved of anything Gambrachian to love, quickly bequeathed their blessings on Autumn. “Behold a great empowerment!” they declared. “Tis the greatest empowerment we have seen in a long gaddem time. When Gambrach returneth, ye shall see even more powerful empowerment, swearraghad!”

And behold, the people remembered Gambrach again. For lo, there was no news of him. Rather, there was more news from the high chiefs in the North. “Let it be known throughout the land that Gambrach will, shall, must compulsorily and irreversibly serve for two quadrannia on the throne. For it is written, ‘What do ye imagine against the King? He will make an utter end: affliction shall not rise up the second time.'”

“Yes!” said FemCallamitus. “I know not why the enemies of the Kingdom rage. Why do they seek the end of Gambrach’s reign? Have they ever seen a reign so beautiful and sweet? I don’t know much but I know I love him and that may be all I need to know. The King liveth. Even though he speaketh not to his people, nor attendeth to the affairs of the kingdom and spake not even unto me for several moons until the Day of Kingsleycost, yea, I know he liveth. How? Because it is truly amazing how he knocks me off my feet, every time he comes around me I get weak, no King has ever made me feel this way. Selah.”

“And let it be known” the high chiefs in the north continued, “that we are prepared for schism to rent the kingdom asunder should no heed be paid to our word. For reals, yo!”

And the clouds over the land continue to grow in size and darkness, and yea was there a rumbling in the firmaments above and a striking of lightning (for thunder striketh not, regardless of the opinions of the bumbum bard, Tee Maya). And behold, the cloud unleashed all the gaddem unchill inside it, as news reached the Twilistines that Shiwajun and Moozes, who had contested sorely against him, were reconciled. Worse, was news that Moozes was about to leave the house of Padipalia and join Shiwajun in Apicuria. The news was unleashed like a Gambrachian banter and there was no gaddem chill in all the land!

 

The Chronicles of Chill: Inner Bah Yor & the Handling Hand of the King

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In the second year of the first quadranium of King Gambrach, there was unrest in the land for the King had not been seen at successive meetings of his council. The people clamoured to behold their king and hear his soothing voice as he spoke to them yet again about his holy quest to rid the land of evil.

Unbeknownst to them, the King had embarked upon a very awesomely secret and mysterious mission, one whose secrecy was only exceeded in awesomeness by its mystery, and only a select few of his council knew whither he went. Lo, the mission was not even revealed to the chronicler and far be it from the Chronicler to accuse the revealing spirit of the Tword of unknowing.

“Where art thou, O Gambrach”, the people cried. “Speak to us, for the camp of your enemies whispereth that thou art ill.”

“Ye fear too much” said Lar Yi, the King’s councillor for propaganda. “For though the king be a septuagenarian, behold he is the septiest septuagenarian that ever was. Fear not, for he only worketh from home.”

And the people were confused. For Bedrock was the King’s home and the place from where he had always worked.

“Hath he moved to a different castle or palace?” the people asked. “Hath he another official residence? Thy explanation maketh no sense to us. Give us our king!”

Lar Yi cast an anxious glance at FemCallamitus. FemCallamitus looked nervously over his shoulder to see if Gar Bar was in their midst and knew what to say. But Gar Bar was nowhere to be found. It seemeth that he had accompanied the King on the mission most mysterious and secret.

“Look”, began FemCallamitus, “the King only followeth the orders of the meisters and yea, is he chillaxing, that his spirit and body may be renewed unto thy service.”

“But thou informest us previously that his fitness was fiddlistic. Didst thou declare unto us a falsehood?”

“No, twas true!” Lar Yi had come to FemCallamitus’s rescue. “The King taketh things easy, that he might convalesce.”

And the people looked at each other in befuddlement. “Thou confusest us big time, dude.” they said to Lar Yi. “Doth he work from his chambers or another palace or doth he convalesce?”

“Oh, look at that purple moonlight” exclaimed Lar Yi suddenly, pointing to the sky. And the people followed his gaze to see the purple moon. But behold, the moon was white and when they turned back to ask what he meant, both Lar Yi and FemCallamitus were gone. Twas a gbelonic-gbebonic scam.

Whilst the people stood perplexed in their confusion, the scribes of the Parafin lamps came into their midst with scrolls for all to read. When the seals on the scrolls were broken, they were seen to be the chronicles of electoralis federalis through which Gambrach ascendeth to the throne after the quadranium of Gejoshaphat. And the people turned to the Chronicler and asked, “are these thy chronicles?” But lo, they were the chronicles of Gun Yi, who had served the late King Yaraz as Head Scribe.

And Gejoshaphath emerged from the shadows to denounce all that was chronicled of him and his beloved PeiPei in the scroll of Gun Yi. And yea, was there unchill as sleeping memories of electoralis were revived in all their bitter glory. But the King still spake not to the people.

Finally, on the day of Templing, King Gambrach returned from his secret mission and walked into the temple. Behold, the Lovengers were thrown into a revelling of ecstasy proclaiming, “Behold the king! See how he walketh briskly!” And so, was that day proclaimed the Day of Bobriskly.

And yet the King spake not to the people, muttering only the words “Inner Bah Yor”. “Hearest thou, thy king? He speaketh! Oh, he speaketh!” cried the Lovengers.

“What is ‘Inner Bah Yor’?” the people asked. “Is it a mystery of esoteric profundity? And by the way, where is the Moborius, favoured engraver and painter of the King? Twould have been great for him to record this moment for posterity!” But no one knew what Gambrach meant by inner Bay Yor, and no one knew the whereabouts of Moborius, though twas said that he was seen in faraway land, partaking in the new equestrian combat sport of freelancing, not to be mistaken with what the knights of the realm did.

And then word came to the people from senatii that a royal scroll had been delivered to Abushola and Gah-Ra, warden and prefect. “Tis a letter from the King”, Abushola declared. “I shall read it. It says, ‘Shooperoo and Warridoo, how’s it hanging, hombres? Just a line to bring to your attention that the Jandinian meisters have summoned me again and lo, I must depart. I know not the hour or day of my return, so do not ask me.  I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again. Dooo doo dooo dooo dooo…when I see thee again. In the meantime, Osinoshin, my loyal Hand, whom thou knowest, shall handle the kingdom until I return. I know that ye wouldest find this pun funny, so ha ha ha. Peace out.”

Yea, did the breeze of unchill begin to percolate in the land. For it echoed the days of Yaraz and his journeys to the meisters in Sah Oud.

Then one of the senateens asked Abushola, “Oh Warden of the senatii and most excellent reader of the royal scroll! Pray, did the King say Oshinoshin would be Pretend King again or just a handler? If he saith only that the Hand would handle, not that he wouldst be Pretend King, we have a crisis most severe.”

Crisis, crisis, crisis!!! The cry went out of their chamber. And the unchill began to swirl. And yea, it took all the deftness that Abushola could muster to quell it. “The law of the land is clear! For as long as the king liveth yet visiteth the meisters, his Hand is Pretend King!”

“But his scroll…”

“Ignore the scroll, punks!”

And there was an easy unchill. Until news reached the people of yet another feast of savoury celebritine, as the daughter of Ban Gi Dah was wed to her betrothed. Yea, did all the private flying chariots in the land assemble at the castle of Ban Gi Dah. And lo, seated and feasting as brothers were Shiwajun, Gejoshaphat, Abushola, Shegolas and Ban Gi Dah – kings and lords for whom the Twilistines and Social Medianites and Digital Perusites had warred against themselves in electoralis. Smiling one to another at the same gaddem table!

The realisation hit the people that Apicuria and Padipalia were mere constructs in the mind of the hoi polloi. The hoi aristoi were one. And there was no gaddem chill in the entire kingdom!