Thursday, July 26, 2007

546: Where Are My Sons?!

Count Mortimer groans

Took a fall off horseback, one of those fancy coursers from the Continent; Sir Bors gave it to me as a gift. My son and steward Elliott has now forbidden me to ride stallions, saying I must content myself with geldings! Drat that upstart youngster.

Elliott also tells me that Monroe's manor-lands up in Lonazep are faring poorly, as is much of the north. He says some lords are holding "food tournaments" now, where the knights pony up grain or herd animals in order to compete. Poor management, I say.

No word from my boys Monroe or Lancrius. I hope they haven't gotten tangled up in Sir Lamorak's troubles.

I'm sorry to interject on your musings, but I have a serious question.

What legitimate reason is there for royalty to exist in the 21st century?

I mean really aren't you guys really like the shadows of shiekdom of the past?
Gee, William, but my imaginary royalty doesn't exist in the 21st century. Try writing People magazine; maybe they can answer your question.
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