A malicious letter writing campaign forces Lord Kormwind to implement a restrictive policy in regards to mail coming into Whitekeep. This has unforeseen consequences. -- Deathshead419
[AN: I can't easily imagine what might lead to such things in Whitekeep. Origins outside of Whitekeep can work]
A king of conquest is generally expected to encounter the need for more conquest. In such a way, empires are wont to grow. King Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, ninth of his name, stopped short of controlling enough land to become an Emperor, and instead forged an alliance.
Which did nothing to stop people calling it The Infernal Empire.
And nothing to stop people outside of it from getting funny ideas about what went on within its borders. And, like most people with a bug in their bonnet, they sought to appeal to the highest authority. Unfortunately, the highest authority was the very fellow they were complaining about. And they all wrote the same letter.
To his highness, my lord the King, they all wrote. Or, to be accurate, asked someone to write for them. I must beg your attention to the recent conquest of these lands to the allegiance of infernal powers. I am a decent, taxpaying citizen of upright standing and cannot therefore bend the knee to a devil under a crown. I sincerely believe in the divine right to rule, and a devil wearing a crown is therefore an affront to the gods. Please, your highness, take up arms and defeat the Hellkin pretender king. The gods will be on your side.
They were frequently signed with a different quality of handwriting than the main body of the message.
There were thousands of them. Thousands with only minor differences between each missive, beyond the name at the bottom. Or the scrawled mark next to the name and the indicator, Their Mark.
Kosh was grateful he could read quicker than most. He was inundated with complaints from people who somehow expected him to take up arms and lead an army against himself. None of them knew anything more about the way things were going other than a Hellkin was in charge of their world and they did not like that.
He could ban them from sending letters, but he did believe that everyone had the right to an opinion. Just like they had the right to take a shit every day, and most of it stunk just as bad.
The bad part was that all the official, time-sensitive, and diplomatic stuff was buried under angry citizens' nigh-identical appeals. What he needed was a filter. And a response that fit the issue best.
A box of another thousand letters appeared in his office. Hanagon escorted it in with an apologetic expression.
"Ja, ja, ja," sighed Kosh. "This is getting out of hand, m'lord. I know, I know. I'm thinking on the matter. If they knew how the devil under the crown was changing things for the better..." He trailed off. "Mein goetter, you're brilliant."
"My lord?" said Hanagon, who had not been involved in the conversation until that moment.
"Send each and every one of them a copy of their rights under my crown, and one of those magically duplicated bust portraits of me. Vivat rex, my name, date of coronation. That sort of thing. And a letter From the offices of the King..."
Hanagon started taking notes.
"Thank you for your concerns as a taxpaying citizen. You should be glad to know that your taxes are paying for essential services for all citizens, especially those most in need. Though your new king may be a devil under the crown, rest assured that the gods have indeed had their chance to smite him as you believe he deserves. Feel free to appeal to the gods for their lack of action. You may be interested to learn that this devil king had no true desire for conquering your lands, but is now invested in caring for them to the best of his ability."
"Signed under command of the king, et cetera, et cetera?" asked Hanagon.
"Exactly, ja. They have the same complaints? I'm giving them the same reply. I'm here under the crown. I don't really want to be, but now that I am I'm just doing my verdammt best." Ruthless, he sorted the near-identical complaints into a different box. "Hire scribes and run a duplication manufactory for the portraits. And keep an eye out for concerns that step outside the usual Hellkin cooties."
"Yes, m'lord. You will of course want to read them."
"I need to know what they're complaining about so I can work to fix it." He tapped one of his horns out of an old habit, "Can't fix Hellkin, can work on the rest."
Gods help him, there was so much of the rest.
[Photo by Ries Bosch on Unsplash]
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