The Great Evil King

By Angelo Prime

"How dare he give us red apples?!" One villager cried out.

"We should protest his complacency!" Another cried.

With the mob growing unruly due to the color of the apples, they grabbed at their pitchforks and torches. The mob of villagers began to grow with more of them munching at the red apples in satisfaction while grabbing at their farm tools to storm the castle.

They walked along the cobblestone, greeting those and inviting the bar keep, blacksmith, and traders to join the casual stroll to the castle.

They were going to voice their opinion to the King afterall, might as well go with strength in numbers!

Atop the highest loft the castle, there sat the King alongside his trusty adviser. They were both looking through the neatly written requests of the citizens.

"Hmp, they requested for a new mill to be built on the eastern farm? Trivial peasants, set aside workers and materials to make two mills! That'll show them." The King gave a harrumph and stamped the request with excessive force, causing some wax to drip here and there.

"They shall never see it coming, your majesty." The adviser bowed to the man and filed away the request. As the adviser went towards the shelves, he peered out the window to see the amassing group. "My lord, your peasants have come for a surprise visit."

"Have they? Do they not know I am busy!?" He roared loudly and flipped his regal cape to the side and made his way to the window.

There, he observed them with torches and forks in hand.

"IMBECILES! Send the dogs!" He boomed once more with a wave of his hand and the adviser glanced at him surprisingly.

"B-but sir--don't you think that's--"

"Do you dare question me?!" The King turned to eye him menacingly.

The adviser was quick to shake his head and motioned for the guards to send the dogs on the mob below.

"This will teach them to riot!" The King calls out with a boistrous laugh.

Far below, the guards have received the command and shook their heads. They approached the castle square as the mob pushed against the gates lightly.

"We've come to complain to the King! These apples are unsatisfactory in every way and color!" A self-appointed leader raises the perfectly round fruit into the air.

"Back off now, or we will send the dogs out." The guards lazily drawled at the mob.

"We will not stand for this tyranny!" The mob continues to scream.

The Captain shakes his head and motions for one of the guards to open the kennel. "Open the gate! You've ask for this, serfs!"

The mob backs up in fear as hoards of dogs rush out. Some short haired, some long haired, and some super fluffy ones torpedoed from their kennels, barking viciously.

Soon, the mob was penetrated, hound after hound pressing against each of them, panting, wagging, and ushering for more pets.

"How cruel is he to do this to us!?" Screams the mob as they began to gush in clear anguish.

They could not help but pet the royal dogs whose eyes were ungodly adorable.

"We warned you!!" The Captain called out.

"We will not relent!" The mob responded once more but began to falter in their tone.

Back at the top of the loft, the King sat in his chair, swishing his juice left and right in the adorned goblet.

"What are they complaining about?! My apples?! I kept them fed, goddamnit!" He growled as he pounded a fist upon the arm rest.

"T-they do not ... like the color, sir." The adviser meekly spoke to the fuming King.

"... Let. Them. Eat. Cake!" He roared angrily at the information.

With that proclamation, the words soon traveled as the castle went up in a flurry of activity.

The staff hurridly set out tables in the town square and fanning out large, white dining cloths.

The mob stared in confusion at the flurry and continued to pet the vicious dogs in curiosity.

One by one, servers came out with piping hot cakes of varying kinds and placed them upon the large serving tables.

After a good while, the Captain slammed his polearm into the floor to catch the attention of the crazed mob.

"The King has declared, due to your insolence as a whole, you shall all starve. Eat these scraps!" He points to the pristine cakes, wafting smells of delicious baked goods.

The mob, soon losing energy as a whole, simply walked over, seated themselves, and filled the castle square.

"D-darn the King." One of the mob leaders muttered as he took a sip of milk and a mouthful of cake.

And once again, at the very top of the loft. The King smiles to himself at the spectacle below.

"Yes, become complacent, damn peasants!" He began a maniacal laugh that echoed through the hallways.

The adviser only shook his head, wondering when he could be relieved to try some of the cake as well.