Five

Lord Spangler the Munificent surveyed the land below, glorying in its magnificence. It was his, all his, and he made sure all the Little People knew it. Serf, peasant, lowly farmer, they all paid him tribute. As well they should. Hadn’t he just rescued them all from the grips of the fiery dragon? All right, perhaps it was in reality his father who had done so, but his father was now dead, and technically Lord Spangler had been in the general vicinity of the conflict, so by right s he could take at least partial credit for the kill.

And hadn’t he reduced their tax increase just last season? Instead of twenty additional draloons, they now only had to pay 18 per month. What a savings! How could they possibly complain about him now? Determined to give his subjects more reason to love him, Spangler had ordered that all executions would now be held in the early morning so his people would have time to watch tax evaders lose their heads and still be able to get to their farms and start raising crops for the castle. And still there were complaints!

He would never understand.

Lord Spangler looked forward to a quieter time. The excitement of the last two months had taken their toll on him, and he was determined to move back into his life of ease, no matter what the cost to those below him (and wasn’t everyone below him now?) Shadrack the Hero was now languishing in the oubliette, Vanessa the Chaste was carrying his child, and all the lands of Permia were his to plunder. Thank God he was born into royalty. He would have hated to be one of the lesser people, toiling day in and day out for their entire short lives just to make his life (rightfully) easier to live.

“Fool!” he called to his jester, Slappy the Pungent. “Bring me my dinner!” Slappy bowed and ran from the hall toward the kitchen. As he sank back onto the throne…his throne…he marveled at how God must love him to treat him so well.

What he failed to consider, however, was that perhaps some of Shadrack’s friends might have access to rope.