The Next Cinderella

Chapter 5--A Spectacle to Save a Kingdom

Over the next two weeks, the castle was abuzz with furious preparations, and Fredrick was at the center of it all. It had been ages since he'd focused on anything besides giving King Gastronso his nightly sponge bath, which made this opportunity to organize an event a welcome breath of fresh air.

The idea behind the day's announcement was certainly an odd one and arguably insincere, but if it got the kingdom out of its hole he wasn't going to question it for a second. Instead he focused on the mountain of event-related tasks, biding his time until the kingdom improved so he could leave the servant life forever.

His current task took place in the heart of the kitchen, where the air was filled with the fresh-baked aroma of cherry tarts emerging from the big stone oven. Fredrick was in charge of inventory management, carried out by manual counting he recorded on a scroll. This was all at the behest of the greedy king, who wanted to ensure he didn't 'over-provide' for the peasants who'd be clamoring for a binge-fest. The maximum ration was one per citizen, and even though Fredrick was tempted to add some extras for the sugar-happy children, the king surveyed the kitchen with an eagle eye.

Fredrick finished counting and rolled up the scroll. "Right then that's it. Shut down the oven and pack these up."

"Looks tasty!"

Fredrick jumped when he heard the king's voice behind him. He turned and there he was, already wearing his royal tasting bib.

"You're back," said Fredrick, trying to hide his annoyance towards the king's micromanagement.

"I'm here to confirm if you adhered to the quota of flour," he explained. He waddled over to the vat of flour. The vat was six inches higher than his rotund frame, and required the use of a stool for him to take a peek inside. He hopped up onto the stool and gestured to Fredrick. "Measuring stick."

Fredrick handed him the primitive ruler and the king dipped it deep into the vat. "Hmm..." he mused. "Hmm."

"It's exactly the amount you instructed," said Fredrick, losing his patience by the second.

"I'm not sure about that," he contended, extending his arm as deep into the vat as it would go. He learned forward an inch too far, and the rest seemed to happen in slow motion. "Oh...oh..." The king could say no more, as the stool went out from under him and his body dangled precariously on the edge. Fredrick reached up to help him but he was a second too late; the king tumbled right into the vat.

A puff of flour escaped from the top, as Fredrick stood there wondering what to do. "Er...your majesty?"

The king's stubby fingers emerged from the edge of the vat. "As I was saying...you went a quarter of an inch past the mandated quota of flour." Despite the mishap his voice was surprisingly calm. "Which is why you need to do a better job of monitoring waste." Fredrick began to tiptoe away, as he considered leaving him trapped in there forever. "Oh and Fredrick?"

Fredrick rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Yes?"

"Hand me a tart like a good lad, would you?"

Fredrick looked from the tarts to his detailed scroll of inventory. "But your highness...every tart has been rationed for the citizens."

"They'll live," the king said casually. "Now hand one over would you? I didn't wear my tasting smock for nothing."

Fredrick approached the cooling rack and as he grabbed a fresh-baked tart. On his way to the vat he seriously considered rubbing the tart into the ground, infusing it with ants, or even worse. The only problem was his duty to serve, and the terrible nuisance of being born with a conscience...