The Imperial j o s h l e r

The Crownless Prince

It began with the crow of a rooster. Its harsh call soared through the air as the sun rose behind the hills of Redfall. The golden rays shone down upon the citizens of the kingdom, who awoke to begin their day.

In the center of town, basket weavers and seamstresses sold their wares. Others owned small shops, but most were farmers.

Living on the outskirts of the kingdom, the farmers tended to their fields and their animals, riding into town to sell wheat, corn, carrots; whatever they had grown that season.

The local tavern was the official meeting place of the city's council, a rather useless group that the King had approved to let them feel as if they had control. All they accomplished was drinking and chattering about problems in town.

The King, however, did not mingle with his subjects. Instead, he stayed high above them, quite literally, in a castle on a hill.

It was the most grand castle you could imagine; stunning marble floors, golden chalices, dutiful servants, high ceilings, and of course, a master chef to prepare fine feats for dukes and duchesses who would come to visit.

In that castle, King William sat atop a golden throne, dressed in garments from all across the land. Sitting upon his head was a majestic golden crown, declaring him ruler of Redfall.

The crown held a large ruby, placed on the crown right between the eyes. It boasted authority, conviction, honor. All things needed to be king.

But as the prince gazed upon it, he found nothing in his heart that wished for him to wear the crown. He did not want to be king