And he was doing a pretty good job of being one, too. (Which is actually saying a lot. There are some crappy kings running around these days.) He stood on the biggest balcony of his castle with his two most trusted advisers and friends: Accolon the blacksmith, and Malcom the druid. The three looked down and watched daily life unfold in the markets and the streets and wondered at what they saw.
"My friends," said the king. "This is a good place we have here. In so few generations we have done away with hunger, most crime. There hasn't been an uprising in 900 years. Yes, this truly is a great kingdom."
As the friends let the words sink in, the silence was broken by a scream from down the street. All eyes turned to a man running with large axe raised high over his head. He stopped in front of an ox-cart, and chopped the ox's head off with two clean whacks. The man grabbed the head by one of the horns, punched the driver of the cart (who had been frozen in confusion) and ran off down the street holding the head up in the air and screaming with rage.
The blacksmith and the druid looked at the king. Had he just seen that too?
The king blinked once and sighed a little. " ... as it were."
Figuring he had something to attend to rather quickly, he took his leave.
