3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale Read Online Free Page A
Author: Danbert Nobacon
families, and had to have a barn attached that was big enough for large gatherings of more than fifty people), this castle was made almost entirely of wood. And to the honest eye, it could reasonably be described as ramshackle. There were metal fixings, but these were always used wisely and sparingly, because workable metal was a rare commodity, even in Morainia. Although there were rumors …
Notable among the castle’s other inhabitants were the widowed Grandma Natasha Godlove, the Queen Mother. Grandma Godlove, or Gigi as she was affectionately known, and her granddaughter Stormy got on like a house on fire. Then there was Grandma Zilpher and Grandpa Jakerbald Wilson, the King’s parents.
These were a handful to say the least cantankerous and contrary with each other, and more so with their own children. And if it does not seem to make sense that Jakerbald Wilson was alive and yet Walterbald was King, fretter ye not.
We all know about Queen Mothers, but the idea of a King Father seems strange. But why should it be ask yourself that. And anyway, Jakerbald was only strange when he played Grandpa-ish tricks. He was actually a very cheery and highly intelligent fellow. Highly original in his outlook, although, it must be admitted, a bit ornery.
It was in keeping with his ornery character that when Jakerbald reached his fifty-fifth birthday, he took the unusual step of retiring, becoming the first known King Father, and causing a proper constitutional storm in a water tank.
Most people in Morainia were wangodmatists to some degree or other, at least on the surface. But most were too busy with daily life to be more involved than attending Seventh day services and religious festivals. Wangodmatism had its professional holy men, called probbers, missioned throughout the western lands. And the ruling body of wangodmatists in Morainia, the unimaginatively named High Council of Wangodmatists, had seen Jakerbald’s resignation as an in.
The probbers said that the whole Wilson family should thus be excluded from the throne. They’d never liked those Wilsons anyway all of them too lively by half. And the Council suspected they were a bunch of Freethinkers to boot. That Jakerbald! And Walterbald was worse! And no male heir! Of course they saw an opportunity to make their own man, Probber Rogerley Bishop, the new King. Or at least someone with a couple of sons.
The more pragmatic Council of Town Elders said it really should go to a vote, because even if it WAS a kingdom, the Council of Town Elders knew you only could lead when you led where people wanted to go. So four prospective kingdidates were put forward, including Bishop and Walterbald. In the event, when it was put to a popular vote, despite the dirty-trickery and shenanigans of the wangodmatists, the Morainian people decided that Walterbald should be King after all. And not purely out of a respect for tradition. They liked Walterbald. That was the long and short of it. And he was useful, King or no.
As a young man, Walterbald had pioneered the development of the first septic tanks in the town, which had improved the humor and health of all. And then he had invented a wind-powered water pump. The prototype lifted water a distance of three hundred vertical feet, from the irrigation ditch right into a water tank in the basement of Bald Mountain Castle. This technology had the wider and very popular application of making the watering of naturally drier benches above the ditch a hundred times easier. And in extending the Morainian commonlands, suddenly Morainians had the capacity to engage in proper crop rotation, averting the risk of over-farming some of the available land. In short, agricultural output achieved a stable level, which made (almost) everyone happy therein, for even in sort-of-fairy tale worlds, everyone has to eat.
Walterbald was always tinkering with things, trying to make them work better. Just like what he was doing
Notable among the castle’s other inhabitants were the widowed Grandma Natasha Godlove, the Queen Mother. Grandma Godlove, or Gigi as she was affectionately known, and her granddaughter Stormy got on like a house on fire. Then there was Grandma Zilpher and Grandpa Jakerbald Wilson, the King’s parents.
These were a handful to say the least cantankerous and contrary with each other, and more so with their own children. And if it does not seem to make sense that Jakerbald Wilson was alive and yet Walterbald was King, fretter ye not.
We all know about Queen Mothers, but the idea of a King Father seems strange. But why should it be ask yourself that. And anyway, Jakerbald was only strange when he played Grandpa-ish tricks. He was actually a very cheery and highly intelligent fellow. Highly original in his outlook, although, it must be admitted, a bit ornery.
It was in keeping with his ornery character that when Jakerbald reached his fifty-fifth birthday, he took the unusual step of retiring, becoming the first known King Father, and causing a proper constitutional storm in a water tank.
Most people in Morainia were wangodmatists to some degree or other, at least on the surface. But most were too busy with daily life to be more involved than attending Seventh day services and religious festivals. Wangodmatism had its professional holy men, called probbers, missioned throughout the western lands. And the ruling body of wangodmatists in Morainia, the unimaginatively named High Council of Wangodmatists, had seen Jakerbald’s resignation as an in.
The probbers said that the whole Wilson family should thus be excluded from the throne. They’d never liked those Wilsons anyway all of them too lively by half. And the Council suspected they were a bunch of Freethinkers to boot. That Jakerbald! And Walterbald was worse! And no male heir! Of course they saw an opportunity to make their own man, Probber Rogerley Bishop, the new King. Or at least someone with a couple of sons.
The more pragmatic Council of Town Elders said it really should go to a vote, because even if it WAS a kingdom, the Council of Town Elders knew you only could lead when you led where people wanted to go. So four prospective kingdidates were put forward, including Bishop and Walterbald. In the event, when it was put to a popular vote, despite the dirty-trickery and shenanigans of the wangodmatists, the Morainian people decided that Walterbald should be King after all. And not purely out of a respect for tradition. They liked Walterbald. That was the long and short of it. And he was useful, King or no.
As a young man, Walterbald had pioneered the development of the first septic tanks in the town, which had improved the humor and health of all. And then he had invented a wind-powered water pump. The prototype lifted water a distance of three hundred vertical feet, from the irrigation ditch right into a water tank in the basement of Bald Mountain Castle. This technology had the wider and very popular application of making the watering of naturally drier benches above the ditch a hundred times easier. And in extending the Morainian commonlands, suddenly Morainians had the capacity to engage in proper crop rotation, averting the risk of over-farming some of the available land. In short, agricultural output achieved a stable level, which made (almost) everyone happy therein, for even in sort-of-fairy tale worlds, everyone has to eat.
Walterbald was always tinkering with things, trying to make them work better. Just like what he was doing
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