OCR is Not the Only Font

The Captive Crown

Challenge #6: Write a story that includes the themes of failure and conformity, and where one of the characters is a Cloudcuckoolander.

“Though I have done my best,” the King said, projecting his voice through the thick air of the Royal Hall, “I have failed. I know that there are dangers beyond our borders, pacts wearing thin and spears being sharpened. With such threats looming, I pass the crown not to my son, but to the strongest of my people.”

Loud chattering rumbled through the hall. Thesus could hear people saying “The stone! The stone!” but, so far back in the crowd, he could not work out why until the King continued.

“I have placed the crown in a bowl beneath this great block of marble. If you can take it without spade or pick, lever or pulley, with only the power of sinew and bone, it is yours for the rest of your days.”

The chatter began again, louder this time. Anyone could be King, if they were only strong enough to shift that block. Thesus looked around. The eyes of everyone in the room had lit up with hope. Only Itmar, frail, ancient Itmar, did not share their enthusiasm. Itmar and, of course, himself. Though young and eager to lead, Thesus knew he had no hope of lifting even half such a block: he had been born with only one arm.

Before midnight, everyone had tried lifting the stone—even and especially the very small children who had no chance whatsoever of moving it—and everyone had failed. Despite what the King had said, most of the townspeople had expected the Prince to claim the crown after all. Though he had been set the same challenge as everyone else, he was a fearsome warrior and widely believed to be the strongest man in the village.

As the night drew on, however, and the torches died down, it became clear that there would be no new King before morning. Thesus wondered if the stone was perhaps a little too heavy to be suited to the task. A pair of fishermen had agreed to use their combined strength to shift the marble and rule together. However, the King quickly put a stop to this. “A good ruler,” he said, “cannot simply ask for help.”

Thesus fumed inwardly. A good ruler wouldn’t necessarily have huge muscles or an iron grip. It was a good town, and he would have accepted the reign of any one of its citizens (except perhaps Itmar, whose mind was not what it had been), but the King’s challenge would do nothing to bring out its best. But in their haste to move the marble, none of the able-bodied townsmen seemed to have noticed.

“The way I see it,” said Itmar, staring at the huge block above the crown “the problem is simple.”

Thesus was glad that at least somebody could see that not all was well. “What is it?” he asked.

Itmar sucked his gums. “There’s a big stone in the way. If that wasn’t there, it would be easy.”

Thesus was disappointed. Itmar had been a great thinker once, reputed to hold knowledge of ancient power, but his own years had caught up with him. He, like the others, could see only the stone and nothing beyond it. His problem was the same as theirs.

“Yes,” Itmar said. “It would be easy if you could just magick it away. Or at least turn it into bread. Bread is light. Bread can be eaten.” He sucked his gums again. “Yes, the task would be easy were the stone not there.”

It was then that Thesus had an idea.

First thing in the morning, while the sorry townspeople were still sleeping off their sad-swigged beer, Thesus approached the King’s house. With his one arm, he hammered on the door.

“What is it?” It was the Prince who answered.

“I have taken the crown,” Thesus replied.

The Prince looked him up and down. “I don’t want to call you a liar. Are you sure you’re not…mistaken?”

Thesus laughed. “Of course I couldn’t move the stone, but…” just then, he saw the King come into the room behind. Thesus spoke to him past the Prince. “Your challenge,” he said. “To take the crown without pulley or shovel…”

The King rolled his eyes. “You can’t dig it out with your bare…hand, either. If you’ve been up all night scrabbling at…”

“Of course not.” Thesus stared at him. “I used magic.”

“Magic.”

The Prince spoke under his breath. “So you do lie.” He spat on the doorstep.

Thesus ignored him. “Itmar taught me.”

“Magic,” said the King. “Really.”

Thesus said nothing.

“Very well. Show me the crown.”

“That,” said Thesus, firmly, “certainly was not part of the challenge.”

The King continued to stand there, arms folded. “It won’t be much of a coronation,” he said, “if you don’t produce the crown.”

This was exactly what Thesus had feared, but the Prince, his greatest rival, saved him. “Your false words sicken me. Servant!” he called, inside the house. “Come with me and we’ll settle this now. I won’t have this cripple making a mockery of the contest.”

Together, the three of them marched the short distance to the Royal Hall, the crown interred beneath the marble monument within.

“One, two…” the Prince had almost been able to move the block on his own “…three!” With the help of his servant, it was easily toppled. “There!” he said, pointing at the hollow they had revealed. “There’s the crown, still in its bowl. You do lie.”

With no great haste, Thesus stooped down and picked up the crown with his one arm. He handed it to the King, but did not let go himself. “I have taken the crown,” he said. “I used no picks or levers, I asked for no help, the marble was moved with nothing but bone and sinew. The throne is mine.”

“Those were indeed my rules.” The king scowled, but it passed quickly. “You may not be much of a warrior,” he said, “but I think you’ll make a fine politician.”