The Chronicles of Artie, Girl-King of England Born

Chapter Three: From Now On, Quotes Are Also Outlawed

"And that's why you're going to be my seneschal," I told Sir Lemon.

We were sitting alone at the Round Table, the servants bustling all around us. I like the Table. It's as Round as he said it'd be. Merlyn really outdid himself this time.

"A seneschal," said Sir Lemon, "spends half his time with the servants and the other half worrying about them. I'd sooner kiss a dead pig."

"Thank you, Sir," grumbled the old lady scrubbing underneath the Table. "Lovely to be appreciated, Sir."

"Seeing as I am King," I said, nose in the air, "the pig thing can be arranged."

Sir Lemon's seat is seventeen places from my right, so he sat in Lancelot's today. I'm sure Lancelot won't mind.

"That's not the point, Artie," he said, rubbing his brow.

"Well, looks like you'll have to be seneschal, then."

He looked at me all sour-like.

"Was this Merlyn's idea?"

I had to think about how to get around that one for a while.

"…Maybe? I think. Wait, no. I don't think maybe, I know maybe. Absolutely maybe."

He sighed, but didn't follow up. I must be a better liar than I thought.

"Okay, never mind that. Why do you think I should take the bloody role?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Really?"

"No."

Man, Sir Lemon sure is dense sometimes.

"Well, let's put it this way. Guards?"

They snapped up, saluted, then marched up from the door. It's pretty nice being able to make people do things.

"Yes, Sire?"

"Your swords."

The taller one balked.

"But, Sire…"

"Come on, give them now. I mean" -and here I coughed, putting on my King-voice- "upon your troth, man, hand me the swords."

The short one shrugged.

"He's only the King," he remarked, and unsheathed his blade for his fellow to take. The tall guard stared at it for a moment, then pulled his own and knelt.

"Our swords are yours, Sire."

"And I'll give them right back, upon your troth. Now, can you hold the doors? Tell anyone who tries to come in that everything is perfectly fine. King's orders."

"Wonderful," said Sir Lemon. "I can see where this is going already. Also, do you even know what 'troth' means?"

I gave one sword to him and flourished the other.

"Sure I do. It's something you eat and drink out of, right? Sounded pretty kingly to me, and no-one said otherwise, so…"

"Artie. That's a trough. T-R-O-U-G-H. And you put those in stables. For animals."

I considered this.

"Tomorrow," I decided, "I'm going to outlaw spelling."

(And I will, too. Just need to tell Merlyn.)

He hit his head with the flat of his blade and kept it there for several seconds.

"Have at thee," he groaned.

"Have at thee!" I cried, and then I was on him.

He's actually not bad with a sword, Sir Lemon, if you consider that most of his training was done by the old dungeon dummy. I tried not to hurt him too much. We sparred to and fro and up and down and sideways and over the old lady and around the table and back over the old lady until finally he dropped his sword and flopped down on Gawain's chair.

"That's it," he panted. "I give up."

"And a good thing too, Sir," snapped the old lady. "Look what you did to my nice clean floor. Pardon me, Y'majesty."

"Now, if you were seneschal, Kay," I smirked, "you could transfer Maud here to another room. How did you even survive the Saxons?"

"An exquisite fit of divine pique, I'm sure. Come here, man."

He waved the short guard over and pointed at his fallen sword. The guard shot him a dirty look, then picked it up.

Spurred on by a sudden idea (aren't those great?), I dropped my own sword.

"Oh, mine too."

"But of course, Sire."

The guard walked over, bowed, picked it up, bowed again, then returned to his post. His friend clonked him in the shoulder, grinning.

I looked at Sir Lemon and raised my eyebrows.

"Shut up," he said.

"I didn't even say anything."

"Now you have, so shut up."

"Oh no, lese majeste. I'll have your head for that."

"Just get to the point."

"Well, your tongue is sharper than your sword. Which is pretty sharp. And if I'm not mistaken, you'd be a lot safer as seneschal than as a proper, damsel-saving, dragon-stabbing sorta knight."

He frowned, but it was his thinky frown and not his lemony frown.

"And I don't think I'm mistaken," I said again, just to get even more to the point. "Remember when it was just you, me and Merlyn and we went around righting wrongs all over England?"

"Ah, yes, the good old days."

"Yup."

"Those were horrible."

"Only because you kept getting in the way of my justice, block-breeches. Anyway, I'm going to keep doing that. Only instead of going on quests, I'm going to start sending my knights on quests. And people are going to start talking about the both of us if you never ever get one."

"So, you're making an excuse to keep me at home."

"Pretty much. Besides, you can grouch at the servants all day long and they'll have to listen to you."

"Merlyn really did put you up to this."

"So is that a yes?"

He sighed in that long, worn-out way of his, and that was when I knew victory was mine.

"Alright! Sweet. So, um…"

I rushed back to the tall guard, grabbed his sword, then rushed back.

"Kneel."

He raised his eyes to Heaven, then dropped.

"I, King Arthur Pendragon, do dub you, Sir Kay, seneschal of my royal household, and all servants and foodstuffs and furniture thereof."

"Whoopee," said the seneschal.

"Kiss my ring."

"Ugh."

But he did, and then I bid him rise. Not bad for my first seneschal-dubbing, if I do say so myself.

"You'll get your arms later," I said, "Now, away to the kitchen, that you might survey your domain!"

"Whatever. Oh, and Maud?"

Maud popped her aged head from out under the Table.

"Yes, Sir. What do you want, Sir."

"Get out."

"Whatever you say, Sir," shrilled Maud, "and good riddance. These floors can go clean themselves. Lawks-a-daisy, you'd think your fancy magician could magic up some fancy magic mop, but no, it's all up to old Maud!"

Muttering, the old lady shuffled off towards the doors.

"I'll make sure you get a pension!" I called after her.

"Pardon me, Y'majesty, but I'm going back to the farm! I've had enough of your knights and barons an' all those other nobles who can't pick up after their gorramed selves!"

"Well," I blinked, "have fun."

"And sparring at table, too," she added emphatically. "Lord above, what is this land coming to?"

"Well, I-"

"Pardon me, Y'majesty!"

Then she slammed the doors, leaving two rather shaken guards. And that's why Kay's first job tomorrow is getting a new maidservant to scrub the Great Hall.

Good thing she won't need to spell. 'Cause that'll be illegal.