Once upon a time, on a lonely magical island named Flaregames, there was a king. Now this was no ordinary king; he had an army he could summon in an instant – provided he had first set up his magical blue tent of doom – and he even had training in the magical arts, which he learned at Bogsmarts, where he was trained by the most powerful of the fire and ice mages. Not only this, but he even kept three suits of armor for changing whenever he felt like – the suit he wore into battle, the suit for taking selfies with, and the suit for parading in front of his people with. There were even rumors that he could transform into a girl at will – and that he would travel his kingdom under this disguise, looking for rebels and eliminating them. He was a very successful king in all he undertook; he had mastered the strongest spells known to mage-kind, and had even found a way to boost his spell’s powers with magic purple stones. He had conquered every upstart king he had ever come across, and everything in his kingdom was perfect.
Except for one little thing.
(Oh, what, you thought this was going to be a fairy tale? Well, guess what: it is a fairy tale! But of course every fairy tale needs a villain. And so that is who I am about to introduce to you. Enter the villain!)
There was an old prophecy that when the strongest king the lonely little magical island of Flaregames had ever known would come to power, the entire island would be overthrown. On the last day of the third-to-last month of the third year of his reign, starting at supper-time, would begin the Apocalypse that would end the lonely little magical island of Flaregames.
(Oh, what, you’re mad at me for not telling the truth? Ok, so maybe that “one little thing” wasn’t so little after all. And maybe that “villain” wasn’t a “who” but instead was a “what”. But that’s beside the point. Would you please let me go on with my fairy tale?)
But the king was determined to avert the imminent disaster. He hired evil ninjas to gain practice in the art of fighting apocalypses, and even sent one of his ogres up to Flaregames headquarters to change the programming of the universe. Although ogres are good at stealth, they are not good at programming, and so all the ogre succeeded in doing was introducing bugs into the Chamber of Fortune. Though perhaps the ogre was a good programmer after all, for Flaregames headquarters has not been able to fix the Chamber of Fortune to this day. However, this was not the result the king had been looking for, and he sent one of his arblasters up to Flaregames headquarters to try again. Although the arblaster was a tech genius, he could not even avert the practice ninja apocalypses, and only managed to crash the servers when the apocalypses began.
The king was very disheartened at his failures.
“What to do, what to do?” he groaned in dismay. “The Zombie Apocalypse gets nearer every second, and I am still no closer to a solution! What can I do to save my citizens? Or my wardrobe? Or my selfie stick?”
And that was when it hit him. He would go to Bogsmarts, where the wisest fire and ice mages lived. And once there, he would ask them what to do. And with that he hopped onto his chicken and flew away to Bogsmarts.
(Oh, what, you weren’t expecting a chicken? Well, if you don’t believe me, take a closer look at your farms. You can see several chickens grazing around there. The white one is his favorite. His name is Bob. He’s really fast.)
Upon arriving at Bogsmarts, he knocked on the gate with the special knock he had learned there: three fast knocks followed by three slow knocks followed by three fast knocks.
“Greetings, your majesty. What can we do for you today, sir? Come to master another spell?” queried the mages.
“Oh great mages, I come in – er, what did you say? There are more spells?” asked the king.
“Of course, your majesty,” the mages replied. “Here at Bogsmarts we create new spells every day and test them until we have mastered each one. You really must see our newest one. It takes the power of the – ”
“Oh great mages, I would love to stop and chat, but I come in a terrible rush,” interrupted the king. “You see, that old prophecy that will take place on the last day of the third-to-last month of the third year of my reign, the one about the destruction of the lonely little magical island of Flaregames – this island – has been laying heavily on my mind. What must I do to avert this Zombie Apocalypse?”
“Oh great king, who is stronger than any living thing on the lonely little magical island of Flaregames, you can do one and only one thing,” said the mages.
“What is – hey, wait a second. What non-living thing on the lonely little magical island of Flaregames is stronger than I?” asked the king. “I can turn volcanoes into grass, I can turn mountains into sand, and can even turn my foot-soldiers into little green robots. What am I weaker than?”
“You are weaker than the air, my liege,” the mages replied. “Although you control all the elements, can summon fire and ice and green doom clouds, and have even mastered sound –“
“Don’t forget I also mastered the spirits of my enemies,” muttered the king.
“Of course, your majesty. How foolish of us to forget,” said the mages. “But as we were saying, you are weaker than air. You never did master that flying spell you talked so much about on the first day of the fourth month of the third year of your reign.”
“Oh, yes. How foolish of me to forget,” returned the king. “But this is beside the point. What must I do to save the lonely little magical island of Flaregames – this island?”
“Simply this: you can surrender to an upstart king, and let him be the most powerful king the lonely little magical island of Flaregames has ever known. Then when he is destroyed in the Zombie Apocalypse you can take over the island again.”
“Yes!” cried the king. “That’s it! – but who will I give my kingdom to? Who is worthy of the crown?”
“Excuse me, sire,” said the mages, “but you need not worry about the quality of your successor, as he will only rule for a few days.”
“But my three suits of armor! He will make them all stinky and muddy! Just like my nephew did the day I foolishly left him all alone in the castle,” cried the king, petulantly stomping his feet on the ground.
“Ever heard of a washing machine, sire?” ventured the mages.
“Ah, how foolish of me to forget. What would I ever do without my trusty mages?” said the king. “Well, now I must be off to name my successor. Farewell!”
“Farewell, o great king of the lonely little magical island of Flaregames. May your reign never end and your xp ever increase and your armor never go rusty!”
And so the king returned to the castle. He went down to the dungeons and found his old evil aunts and uncles that he had locked away years ago.
(Oh, what, you didn’t hear about them? Well, they overran the kingdom when he had gone to Bogsmarts to learn magic. If you don’t believe me, you can read all about it in Royal Revolt 1.)
And then he threw a great feast in their honour, and proclaimed each and every one of them king – even his aunts.
(Oh, what this time? Females are usually made queen? Well if you know so much, perhaps you should be telling the story, not me!)
And with that he gathered up his magical blue tent of doom and his selfie stick, and got upon his white chicken named Bob, and set off for Flaregames headquarters. There he met his citizens, whom he had given an evacuation warning the morning before. Yes, they all rode chickens too. It’s a lot of fun, riding a chicken. You really should try it some time.
Together he and his citizens watched as the Zombies took over the island. It was a very emotional time for the king.
“O my poor suits of armor!” he moaned. “But don’t worry, my beauties, I will come to rescue you in the morning and put you in the magical white box commonly known as “washing machine”, and I promise you will be good as new.”
And when the sun rose up, the heat of its rays burned all the Zombies and they exploded in little green puffs of smoke. The king returned with his citizens and declared the day a national holiday, known as Zombie Apocalypse Day. For years to come, when supper was over on the last day of the third-to-last month of any year of the reign of the strongest king the lonely little magical island of Flaregames had ever known, all the citizens would dress up as Zombies and go from farm to farm and tavern to tavern, celebrating the victory of their king over the Zombie Apocalypse. And when all his citizens walk up to the castle steps at the break of dawn, the king will be standing there with his selfie suit and his selfie stick, taking pictures with all the citizens who desire one.
(See? I told you it was a fairy tale.)