The queen tapped her fingers against the solid marble throne, a rhythmic tap that echoed around the large hall.
The expressions on the faces before her were unsure, yet keen. They would wait hours, or even days for her to speak, but she would take her time anyway. After all, she was the queen.
Eventually, the queen’s fingers stopped and she leaned forwards.
“Let it be known that from this time forwards, the month of April will be known as the time for all men in the United Kingdom to settle their taxes”
The crowd whispered.
“Furthermore, it is my decision that the job of counting such taxes will be metered out amongst a select group of people.”
The crowd murmured.
“Finally, members of those select groups will work tirelessly throughout this period to ensure that not a single English pound goes astray.”
As the crowd turned to uproar, a man stepped forwards to address the queen.
“Your Majesty, how will I be able to keep up with my writing and my blog? I have almost ten followers who may already think me dead and my protagonist has spent many days camped in a derelict tavern with little food or water.”
The queen leaned back in her throne and laughed; so evil was the sound that all other noise ceased. As the silence descended, the queen focused on the man through sinister eyes.
“Unless you do my bidding, amuteforamuse, you will not only join your protagonist’s dilemma, but possibly prove your followers right. Now get on with your work, I don’t want to see or hear of you until at least mid-April.”
With that, a curtain dropped down in front of the throne, a sign that the audience with the queen had come to an end.
“Aw, crap.” amuteforamuse whispered.