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"Drink lye. Our brilliant doctors have advised me that this compound will kill the virus. Just mix it with ale and you shall be cured," King Ronald said, surrounded by his subjects hopeful for guidance.
  "Isn't that right, Dr. Brix?" he asked nodding his head toward the doctor.
  The doctor looked down and picked up her medical bag, appearing to look for something.
  Ronald cocked his head back and puffed out his chest as he looked to the people, better known as "the little people" in his mind. He stepped down from the dirt mound and went to the right of the group to meet his favorite subjects. They cheered and patted him on the back; swords waved in the air. He walked nodding his head with his thumbs tucked in his arm pits. Nothing made the king happier than hearing people cheer his name. Most of his time was spent rallying rather than performing actual governance.
  A deadly virus had swept the lands and killed hundreds before Ronald raised the draw bridge to keep foreigners out. The castle was divided with some sheltering in place, and others wanting to act like nothing happened at all. The king's message was never consistent about what the people should do.

Some of the royal subjects that heard his message immediately procured the lye in hopes for immunity. All that consumed the lye became sick, and many died.
  "Your highness. The lye is killing the people. The doctors advised the use for surfaces, not ingestion," Kelly Amway said, the king's trusted advisor.
  Ronald folded his arms and the right corner of his mouth pulled down. "Oh I knew that. I knew it was just meant for surfaces," he said. Then waved her away.

Kelly gathered the people for another message to be delivered by the king. Fresh straw was laid down on the castle courtyard. Extra white geese were allowed to roam.
  "Your highness. Many of our people have died from the lye. Why did you tell the people to ingest it?" asked a blacksmith.
  "I was being sarcastic to people like you just to see what would happen. You were an idiot to take me literally. And then you told others about it without the sarcasm and they believed you. Now they are dead. They are dead because of you," Ronald said, pointing to the blacksmith.
  "Their deaths are on your hands," he continued. "Guards! Seize him."
  The guards grabbed the blacksmith and dragged him to the dungeon. Chickens in small wooden cages began to cluck, small children began to cry.
  Ronald continued, "Look. You people should be grateful. If I hadn't raised the draw bridge when I did, hundreds more would have died. Thousands. Probably all of us. You should be thanking me." He stood in place while speaking, but his hand constantly flew around in the air.
  "He paused and looked up to the sun. "I am the chosen one. If it weren't for me, we would be at war right now with the Arkans. The prior king did nothing to keep peace with the Arkans. If he were still alive, we would all be dead. It was me. I was the one that finally met with them. And last year's harvest, the biggest it has ever been. No harvest has ever been bigger until I came into power. So show some gratitude."
  Ronald spun away from the crowd without further utterances and returned to his ivory tower.





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