I m u s t s a y, m y f r i e n d s,

The King chewed for twenty seconds. I don't miss home at all now that we have all of this wonderful horseradish! All twenty-one of the men sitting around the table raised their spoons and hurrahed silently. The horseradish was truly a cause for celebration- indeed, it almost managed to take mind of the ponderous Prince Jonathan, a passionate gourmet, off of hitting his head on things with German names for a moment. In place of a tablecloth, a dusty silence was draped over the table. There are two kinds of silence: silence that one does not notice, and silence that is louder than any noise. This silence was spidery and looming, yet passive and innocuous at the same time. The King rose stiffly, clearing his throat. He was a small man, but he dominated the hall with his voice. Hear me, ye whose loyalties lie with the Kingdom! Each syllable clanged against the walls, pleasantly dissonant. Of course, everyone was already listening to him, so his booming broadcast was impressively pointless. By sunset to-morrow, I shall have named my successor. The King paused, as if waiting for cheers of approval. The only sound was the dismissive clank-clink of silverware. Prince Jonathan's face was buried in strudel. None of the knights listened to the man with the crown. A new beginning! But we cannot start the new year without an adventure. So, we must wait for one. The King's eyes were dichromatically fiery, and he looked like he wanted to say more. He breathed out through his mouth and attempted to breathe in through his nose, but encountered a barrier and breathed in through his mouth instead. He hoped desperately that no one noticed his defeat. After a moment's deliberation, I decided it would be a good time to let go of the chandelier. The entire table shook at the impact, and I crumpled. I gave a wretched whine and pressed my right ear into the cold stone as hard as I could. It gave a sputtering cough, then shifted precariously. Welcome to our noble order, mouthed the king bombastically.

I lay still for a moment, taunted by the continued clank-clink. The bright purple chandelier swayed listlessly above me. The King made no remark; he regarded me with the eye of one who has seen hundreds of velociraptors before. Defiant, I stared deep into his mind and discovered that I was, in fact, the first. I repeated his magniloquy to him in a somewhat indignant tone of voice. Zounds! cried he, losing his orotundity at once. He bounded swiftly onto the table and gestured that I should stand up. I took the liberty of ignoring him. The King procured a letter from his pocket. He tossed it at me rather than to me, as if challenging me to a duel. I snagged it with the talons of my feet and then handed (footed) it to myself. Promptly remembering my inability to read, which may or may not have been due to my being a velociraptor, I set the envelope on the surface of the table and gave it a capricious flick. It did not travel far, and I was a touch peeved to see it stop short of its target. The King, it seemed, was done with me. Perhaps I had angered him, but it was more plausible that he had no intention of keeping me alive since the moment I dropped in on his dinner. He drew a long, tapering blade from a baldric I could not see. He circled around me clockwise: once, twice, and then the point of the weapon was in my face. A big, blurry blotch of greyish-blue. Know this, stranger: my court is the finest in the land. I remained on my back and squirmed profusely to the edge of the table; the stifling spicy-sweet smell of horseradish assaulted my brain. The muscles of my neck seized up. I gave him the most smirky skeptical look I could muster. Well, its very clean! defended the King, heaving his sword into the air.