UNNECESSARY EVIL

by Triptych

               

               

                The kingdom of Sharne was one of the happiest places in the world.  All of its people were healthy and content, ruled by a royal family that demonstrated the same kindness and justness for everyone.  Sharne stood tall, some said, not only as a kingdom but as a living monument to Peace itself.

 

                So there was no surprise when some jerk came along looking to destroy it.

 

                That jerk was Kile the Violent, destroyer of kingdoms throughout the land.  He walked in the footsteps of a long line of barbaric destroyers, including Kale the Harsh and Krill the Brash; all of whom stemmed from Kull the Minorly Bullish.  It had taken years, but Kile's bloodline had grown into the most vile and feared bane to peaceful kingdoms everywhere; especially since it was the only one.

 

                Kile the Violent looked out over the table at his team of war adviosrs, many of whom were loudly knawing on various objects.  He tapped the table with his sword, prompting everyone to gnaw more quietly.

 

                "As you all know," Kile began, "our army is still reeling from the poisoned rations they were given."  Kile glared at the Supply Coordinator.

                "But they were free rations!" the Coordinator noted.

                "They were rations from the kingdom we had just defeated!" Kile shouted.  "Weren't you in the least bit suspicious that the people of a kingdom that we had just raided were willing to treat us to a free lunch?!"

                "So that's why they were snickering..." the Coordinator trailed off.  Kile sighed.

                "No matter." he said.  "What's done is done.  However, this has severely limited our numbers for our attack on Sharne.  If we are to get over the mountains to Adom before the passes are snowed out, we must find a way to conquer Sharne now!"  Kile slammed his sword down on the table for emphasis.  He liked using his sword for emphasis a lot, and the table showed it.  Kile turned to the Tactician.  "What do you suggest?" Kile asked.  The Tactician fumbled a little.

                "Well, ah- uh..." he stammered.

                "What's wrong?" Kile said.  "Don't you have any ideas?"

                "Well, yes I do.  It's just that we haven't strayed from our 'Running in and Taking Everything' plan that I need some time to remember them."  The Tactician chewed thoughtfully on a bone.  "Ah!  I remember one!" he suddenly cried.  "We can poison their water source!  It's quick, it's easy, and it will get rid of the rest of those horrid rations!"

                "That's not going to work." Kile said.  "Sharne is supplied by the mystical Brita river.  It remains pure no matter what is introduced into it.  Except every three months they have to change something in it; I'm don't really no what... but anyway," Kile slammed his sword down again.  "there must be something else."  Kile scanned the faces at the table, suddenly locking on his General.  "General!  Aren't you still dating that sorceress from the West?  Couldn't you get her to cast some sort of curse on the people?  Maybe some boils?  Locusts?  Flying monkeys?  Something?!"

The General cast his gaze down at the table.

                "I'm afraid not." he finally said.  "We broke up some time ago.  We had... a spat."

                "A spat?"

                "I didn't notice she had changed her hair and she... she turned me into a chamberpot."

                The table erupted into laughter.  Those sitting closest to the General started inching away from him.  Kile called for silence.  When it didn't work, he slammed his sword down on the table with such force that a large piece of it broke off.  Everyone quieted down, except for the Tactician.

                "I've got it!" he exclaimed.  "Everyone knows of Sharne's sacred goat, right?"

                A room of blank stares (or blanker than usual) told him that not everyone did.

                "Fine, then.  The people of Sharne beleive that goats are the source of luck and happiness.  So a goat is chosen to live with the royal family.  It gets part of their food, it's own part of the castle, it's own clothing; heck, they even parade it around on holidays!  They treat it like some sort of god!"

                "What are you implying?" the General implored.

                "If we can sneak in and steal that goat, the entire kingdom will be at our mercy.  He who controls the goat shall control the kingdom!"

                "Unbelievable!" the General remarked.

                "It's perfect!" the Coordinator said.  The rest of the table grunted with agreement.

                "It's absurd!" Kile kried.  "I will not stand by and watch as my army degenerates into a band of measly kidnappers!"  A chorus of groans rose from the table.  "What!?" Kile screamed.

                "That was an awful pun." the Tactican said.

                "What pun?! ...Oh, 'kid-napping'?  I didn't really intend to say... but that's not important!"  Kile brought his sword down again, but since the part of the table he usually hit was gone, it swished cleanly through the air.  "I must think about this."

                Kile went to the window, where he weighed his options.  There really wasn't any other choice.  But stealing a goat?  How could that possibly bring him honor?  Then he remembered something his father, Kiln the Aggressive, had once told him.

                "Son," he had said, "no matter what you do, remember that at least you're not a lawyer."

                Kile turned and met his advisors. 

                "I have reached a decision.  Tonight we shall scale the east wall, enter the castle..." Kile held his sword high, "and get their goat!"

                But that's not where the term came from.