It is tradition that for Boxing Day, the masters of the house trade jobs with the servants. For one day, the servant gives the orders and the master obeys. Unfortunately for the king, his servants are very pissed off this year, and feel like this is an excellent excuse for a coup. -- Tergon
[AN: Gonna change the holiday so it fits in one of my worlds]
Trickster's Day. The day after Midwinterfeast. The time of year that the authority of the world turns upside-down for twenty-four hours. The kings spend a day serving. The servants spend a day in command of the kings. It's normally all in good fun.
Some rulers have better humour about it than others.
King Barnabion Leander Algerone Tybaldin Malgerius, eighth of his name, was a humourless man that few would call tyrant. Mostly because he'd find out who did it and have them executed. When Loki's Day came around, every year, he chose the same servant to swap with.
Mili was mute, and therefore could not order him around. She was terrified of him, and therefore didn't even try. Best of all, she was illiterate, and could not issue any orders. She spoke the language of hands, which the King declined to ever try learning. To King Barnabion VIII, she was the perfect servant for this venture.
The Lutemen found her, of course. They plucked the strings of politics to ensure the world fell into as little chaos as possible. And sometimes, that involved the strategic removal of certain, problematic individuals.
Like despotic tyrant rulers with a penchant for executing protestors against their rule.
The Luteman who befriended Mili did speak the language of hands. Ze paid attention to her grievances, and tried honestly to help her. A Hellkin Warlock for Loki naturally felt inclined to act on hir patron god's celebration day.
"King Barnabion never kept a bedmate," said Harmony with hir hands. "He has no named heirs, but my associates are lining up a Duchess to step in and take over while searching for a rightful heir."
"There are none," signed Mili. "The fighting will begin in less than two years."
Harmony smiled gently. "Long-lost scions can be arranged. My colleagues and I have done such many times. We're very good at quelling the fires of hate." Ze paid for Mili's meal, with a tip. "Just stay in your bed on Loki's Day, and we will take care of the rest."
The day after Midwinterfeast, King Barnabion VIII placed the Coronet of Command on the head of someone who looked like Mili. His smirk was confident and condescending at the same time. "I await your orders, 'Queen' Mili."
The normally cowed maid straightened up, prouder than she had ever been. She reached up to activate the magic of the crown she wore, and spoke a word that could not be disobeyed.
"Die." She said it in a voice that could never have fit her body.
Barnabion realised, far too late, that the person he had just crowned was an imposter. Because of the undeniable command of his own crown, he could not breathe in. His throat closed as he tried to gasp. His heart stabbed itself in his chest.
He knew, in these last, panicked moments, that the command could not be denied or overruled. Even if he desperately desired to live, his body would obey the commanding word.
Strength left his limbs, dragging him to the floor. Light abandoned his eyes, leaving him in darkness. The last words he heard with living ears were from the stranger wearing Mili's face.
"Sic semper tyrannis."
The next thing he saw and heard was the Goddess of Death. "Come," she said, "You are overdue for what you deserve."
The Coronet of Command returned to the castle treasury as if it had never left. The staff of the castle enjoyed a restfully quiet day. As for the remains of the King... they were found the next morning by maids who could scream at the sight of a corpse. Flies had made sport of his flesh, and his body had to be buried in a hurry.
Since he had nobody who cared about him, nobody made bread for his spirit. He would be among the hungering dead with little to hope for in the way of redemption, until the world and his soul forgot who he was. Only then could the aether of his spirit be woven into a new soul.
As for Mili... she became an essential advisor for the Duchess Evyngetha, who did speak the language of hands. As did the Scion, who turned up just in time, with a few helpful bardic songs in his favour.
[Photo by Sarah Penney on Unsplash]
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