335Author's Note: Just recently, I read a story which made me think about the following storyline, and how nothing has ever been done with it, and how often so many of these pieces of horribly-done fiction always end up as sodding pieces of wish-fulfilment fantasy.
So my fingers got itchy. When my fingers get itchy, there's not really much that can be said…
I wrote a parody. Yes, it is NOT set in Arkon. To do so would be to utterly demean my world, given the absurdity of some of the events that happen in here. XD
If you find any stupid contradictions in the plot, even gaping plot holes, remember that they've been intentionally placed there. This is a parody.
Without further ado…
Examination of the Blade
A parody by Lccorp2.
"Absolutely not!" Diarrhoea slammed her palm down upon the mahogany dining table. "Father, I will marry as and when I please, and when I do it, it will be for love, not by your dictatorial demands!"
Sir Gregory Rae, Earl of Summerhill, sighed and poked at the potatoes on his plate with a fork held by a brawny arm made strong by years of fencing, both in the sparring arena and on the battlefield. They'd gone over this so many times before. "Dearest daughter, do think for a moment. Because dear Arthur's family is currently holding the canal that joins the Swin and Hofferbag rivers, we could use this marriage to persuade his family to lower the taxes imposed upon merchants using the canal. Trade would increase, and the coffers of both families would swell accordingly. Furthermore, prices of imported grain from coastal towns would probably fall, making the peasants' lives marginally easier. Do you understand?"
"I don't care!" Diarrhoea cried again with a toss of her long hair that stretched all the way to her waist. "I'm not marrying a lout like Arthur!"
Gregory sighed again. It didn't matter that he'd been set up in an arranged marriage like so many other young men and women his age, and instead of trying to run away from it like Diarrhoea was currently trying to do, he and Samantha had actually tried to make the marriage work. It had been an experience, to say the least, and Gregory would be lying to himself if he didn't admit there was at the very least a basic fondness between him and his late wife.
"And Arthur's not a lout. He's a very respectable young man, doesn't drink, smoke, have violent tendencies, is courteous, and most importantly, has a very well-developed sense of justice."
Diarrhoea screeched in dismay and upturned the whole plate, spattering gravy and potatoes all over the dining table, herself, and her father. Unfazed by the spectacle, Gregory wiped off a little gravy from his fuzzy beard with the back of his hand and calmly looked at his daughter.
"I think that means you've just accepted a double load of chores, Diarrhoea."
Later, Diarrhoea found herself sweeping the floor of the west wing alone. It was all so horrible! While almost all the noble children in the kingdom knew from young that their marriages were going to at least in part be decided by their parents, and had been bred to accept that, she was different, just Because.
And her cruel father had forced her to do chores. Horrible, nasty, degrading chores. Never mind that he himself sat down with the servants in the kitchen to peel vegetables together while chatting, or personally inspected and cleaned the fireplaces, or…he said he did it to understand how the common people felt. Pah! Her evil father was probably up to no good, probably plotting to overthrow the king and queen. She just knew that, it was women's intuition, and that was never wrong.
Running down her perfect, unsullied skin, a tear splashed down upon the perfect petals of a rose that'd managed to grow in the dark hallways of Summerhill Castle, never mind that roses didn't grow in this part of the world, or it was really too dark for anything to be planted here, really. Then again, Diarrhoea's tears never flowed freely or landed on anything ordinary.
Diarrhoea gazed into a mirror that had just been hanging on the wall. She was a full eighteen years of age, never mind that most were married off at the ages of fourteen or so. Slim and slender, with full milky-white breasts, Diarrhoea's long hair shone with a light of its own in the gloom, akin to her eyes that were sapphire blue but had a streak of violet running down the centre. Marring all of her natural beauty was the atrocious green dress that her father had requested her to wear, it was so demeaning! If only she could tear all of this off and immediately change into the men's clothes she preferred to strut about in!
Now Diarrhoea knew how horrible it was to be raped and tortured with red-hot irons. Well, she hadn't had the experience, but surely doing chores and wearing dresses were their equivalent!
When she'd finished the floor, Diarrhoea felt as if she'd been lashed a thousand times with a whip. Somehow, she managed to make it to her father's grand library, which held virtually thousands of books that he'd managed to accumulate at the cost of many golden gryphons over the course of his life. Plopping down into a plush, red armchair, Diarrhoea picked out a book from a shelf at random (Author's Note: Yes, I do know she's supposed to be sitting down, it's a parody, for heaven's sake. I do keep track of body-centred writing.), and turning to a completely random page, it just happened to reveal something that might be of use to her. Intrigued, Diarrhoea kept on reading…
"Well," Sir Gregory announced after much hemming and hawing in front of most of the gathered nobles who'd come at such short notice, no matter that they had their own turfs to administrate, "I would like to announce the betrothal of my daughter Diarrhoea Rae to Art-"
"No!"
All heads turned to see Diarrhoea stand up haughtily, clutching an old, obviously yellowed piece of paper in her hand.
"What's the matter?"
"By the ancient laws of Whackadoodle, anyone who does not see the marriage as proper has the right to challenge it, by blade if need be! See! I have the proof here!"
Livid, Sir Gregory began muttering under his breath. "You-you tore that out of the last copy of Stupidly Deus Ex Machina laws of King Whackadoodle! The last remaining copy in existence! I was going to have that copied out next week, and you've ruined it!"
"See! Now I have foiled my wretched, evvvvil father's plans to marry me off as a brood-mare to that sodding Arthur!" Diarrhoea crowed triumphantly, oblivious to the fact that she'd just cost her father a fortune. "Now I plan to battle the despicable Arthur, who would wrest from me my freedom, the freedom to love who I choose!"
The crowd gasped, because that's what crowds do. Everyone knows that.
Slightly perturbed, Sir Gregory got to his feet. "Daughter, I think…"
The slap was as hard as Diarrhoea could manage, or it would have been, had Sir Gregory not dodged it with reflexes honed over years on the battlefield. "Stand still so I can hit you, father," Diarrhoea spat. "Get lost before I challenge you too."
Quietly, Sir Gregory made in the direction of his study. Behind him, he could still hear the commotion, mainly Arthur trying to dissuade Diarrhoea from this madness, and Diarrhoea accusing Arthur of cowardice.
"You're not scared of a girl, are you?"
"Miss Diarrhoea, I must point out that I have been bearing arms for around fifteen years-"
A spitting sound. "If you're not afraid, then we shall meet steel with steel. You pig, you only want me so you can ravish me horribly in bed."
"Fine. How about tomorrow?"
"So late? I would rather get it done and over with. After the feast, in this very hall. You cannot hope to win-for we women are superior, being the source of life."
Those were the last things Sir Gregory heard before he closed the door of his study. Lighting a torch set in a sconce, he picked up a sheet of paper, a quill and an inkbottle and began to write.
Sir Judgemaster Cid,
I have written to you about how my daughter has troubled me, and this time she has gone too far. You will probably hear of the proceedings shortly; she has publicly shamed me in front of the entire kingdom and thus should be the object of much gossip in days to come.
In any case, I would like to receive information on the legal proceedings of disownment…
Things were going according to plan. Sparing herself a chuckle, Diarrhoea made her way to the armsmaster's. She would repel the advances of the boorish Arthur and foil the plans of her wicked, tyrannous father, and would rule in his place after his defeat. Without even bothering to knock, Diarrhoea barged in.
"Ah, lady Diarrhoea," the armsmaster said as she entered. "May I be of service?"
"Yes. I want to learn to fight."
Smiling, the armsmaster nodded. "Ah. For a lady, I would recommend a light, agile weapon, perhaps-"
"I'm not a lady," Diarrhoea screeched almost beyond fury at the insult. "And I want that one." she pointed at a huge claymore hanging on the wall, a massive sword that looked befitting her, all ferocious spikes and edges.
Now the armsmaster looked a little worried, and rightfully so, or so Diarrhoea thought. He shouldn't have insulted her like that. "Well…how long would you like to train for? Two years? Three?"
"Three hours."
At that, the armsmaster burst into laughter, rolling around on the floor as tears streamed down his face. Diarrhoea thought it was a response to her tremendous innate skill, so overawed was he that his brain couldn't comprehend the awesomeness of it all and instead resorted to laughter.
Despite some savage kicking, though, Diarrhoea couldn't stop him from laughing, so she simply walked over and tried to pick up the greatsword. Her slender, silky-smooth arms couldn't lift it. Suddenly, some random words appeared in her mind and compelled her to say them. "Swordus lightus," Diarrhoea murmured, and immediately the blade weighed nothing in her hand! Gasping, Diarrhoea resisted the urge to squee in delight-she could do Majeeek! And all by herself, without any training whatsoever!
But the armsmaster shouldn't have laughed at a lady like her, it simply wasn't polite.
The Great Hall was a bit of a mess. Several tables had been arranged in a circle to form a ring of sorts. Crowded around the ring were the various nobles, who were all expecting to have biggest laugh of their life. Inside it, though, was a very deeply troubled Arthur, contemplating the morality of putting a very stupid person out of her misery. After all, people killed animals all the time so they wouldn't have to suffer any more…
Then the double doors flew open, and Diarrhoea was there, clothed in revealing lingerie formed from fine chain links of gold that shone in the light of the torches.
"Why…why are you dressed like that?"
"Because nothing else would befit my innate wonderfulness," Diarrhoea replied with a smirk. "I have no need of such disgusting things like breastplates and the like. I shall emerge victorious, for I don't do stupid things like underestimating my opponent just because of sex," she continued, trying to look down the length of her nose at him.
Arthur shook his head slowly. "Until first blood, then?"
"Why? I assure you that I will be trying to kill you. You are a blight upon my life, as equally evil as my father," came Diarrhoea's reply as she climbed into the makeshift ring. When Arthur raised his shortsword in a salute, she didn't bother to return it, instead lowering her majeek sword and charging at Arthur, screaming "HIYAYAYAYAYAYA!"
Just then, a gust of wind from a window blew a lock of Diarrhoea's hair over her eyes. That irritated her, for she couldn't see what Arthur was doing.
She did feel it, when Arthur's sword thrust itself through her gold underwear and impaled her.
Arthur thought he heard faint applause from somewhere above him.