Chapter 4

Understandably shaken by the rapidly unfolding drama, the patronage of Saint-Cloud filed out of the room, congregating in adjacent rooms to discuss what their eyes had had trouble processing. Louis remained behind, anger once again rising as he was now left alone in a room with three people he despised now more than ever: Black Dynamite, the tardy hero who ruined the evening; Fouquet, who seemed always to slip his grasp; and Fat Bastard, the lump who desecrated his dear image.
"SAY MAH WEE LAD, HOWDUH YE THINK AM DOIN'? YE KEN UR A TRUE LAD LETTIN ME BE KING LIKE THATN ALL. A-WIZ JUST A WEE BEHBY WHEN THEY TAKE ME THRONE."
"HOW COULD YOU EVER RULE A COUNTRY LIKE THAT!? AND YOU KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME!?"
"AH TAKE MAH WEIGHT SERIOUSLY YE KNOW," Fat Bastard rebutted sadly; "DO YE-NO WHATIZ LIKE TO BE AN OVERWEIGHT BEHBY, ALL ALONE IN TEH WORLD?"
Louis found it difficult to muster any sympathy.

Fat Bastard's facial expression then changed from one of depression to constipation. "WHERE'S UR SHITTER?! I've got a turtle head poking out!" An audible squeal came from Fouquet, still trapped under the grossly obese impostor king. Louis' mouth spread into a perfectly straight line as he came to the realisation that the disgusting land whale couldn't even do him the small service of using his massive weight to crush his enemy. Fat bastard grunted, and his face contorted as he wrenched a wrinkled and twitching Fouquet from his ass crack. Grinning, he presented his prize to Louis, exclaiming, "Wuld ye look a' tha?! Biggest shit I ever took, an' I made some doozies in ma time!"
Fouquet shook himself out of his grip, and landed on the floor with a thud.
"YOU FAT FUCK. I AM NOT A GODDAMN SHIT."
Louis snickered, "I beg to differ. I believe that's the wisest thing he has ever said." Retrieving his sabre from the floor, he pointed it at Fouquet's neck. "Now, where were we?"
Fouquet smirked, then stepped back and whispered into fat bastards ear, whose face reddened with rage.
"WHAT D'YE MEAN YE WANT T'TAKE MA THRONE?!"
He lunged at Louis grabbing him by the collar and lifting him into the air.

"AHYA CANNIE WEE CUNT! YE THENK BECAUSE AM FAT YE CAN TAKE ME THRONE!?"

In the entirety of this horrific week, this set an all new low for Louis. Out of the frying pan and in to the fire. Only he had fled the fire to end up back in the frying pan with a strip of lard. Putain!
"You diabolical dick sniffin' motherfuckers!" Black Dynamite had awoken. "Hold the phone ma mackdaddy brutha! Black Dynamite's here n them honkeys gonna be runnin' for cova!"
"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE GO HOME BLACK DYNAMITE. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."
"Now lets not dwell on the past now, that nigga may be bigger than you and he may be bigger than me, but he ain't bigger than you AND me; can you dig it? Dynamite's gonna make it all right!"
Fat Bastard turned around surprised. "WEH YE LOOK AT THAT! I SHAT TWO OF THEM! I DUNT REMEMBER EATING THAT."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP when grown folks is talkin!" barked Dynamite.
He drew his revolver and popped a few caps in Fat Bastard's jiggly ass. Louis sunk his face in to his palm. It was grossly ineffective.
"DAMN, YOU IS ONE FAT BASTARD."
Fat Bastard was furious. He let out a war cry and charged towards Black Dynamite. It was unclear what Black Dynamite's last words were, as we was crushed by the unstoppable force that was a Fat Bastard body slam. The two smashed through several more floors until they disappeared from sight. Now, only Louis and Fouquet remained.

"Well, your...majesty, I'll give you the satisfaction of hearing that title one more time, it seems that our little game has run it's course. Fat bastard has already destroyed your image, and I've succeeded in taking away everything you ever worked for, and everyone who ever loved you."
Pausing for a moment to allow his heavy words to set in, and feeling his chest swell as he saw Louis' face drop, Fouquet crossed the floor and put his hand on the dejected kings shoulder.
"Forgive me, I've misspoken. No one has ever loved YOU."
Just as he pulled his sword from it's sheath, a loud crashing sound came from behind accompanied by a high, angry voice that shouted, "That's not true!"
Philippe had returned, his black eyes glittering with hatred terrorising his brother.
"Louis and I may have had our differences, and I may have pissed on his bed a few times, but he is my brother and I care about him deeply."
Philippe's confession made Louis' eyes widen in shock and admiration for his brother.
Just as he was about to respond, Inge ran in behind Philippe and shouted, "Me, too! I'm going to finish you, Fouquet! For betraying me! And..." He gave Louis a coy smile, "to win over my boyfriend's cutie brother for a little threesome."
Philippe grimaced. His touching moment with his brother was ruined and he watched Louis' face return to its usual scowl.

"Alright Fouquet. This has gone on for long enough. Once again, you are surrounded and–"
Louis was suddenly interrupted by a completely random and unexplainable beginning of chatter in the dining hall above.

"Mahlzeit."
"Mahlzeit!"
"Mahlzeit."
"Mahlzeit."

And the exchanges of the German greeting continued.
Philippe noticed Louis's frustration at being interrupted. "Heh, uh, that would be the Schwule Pride banquet…"
"Really, brother? You invited GERMANS?"
Philippe winced and replied, "Sorry mon frère, that was my wife's doing…"
"Urgh! Anyway, where was I? YES. Fouquet! You have wronged le Royaume de France for the final time."
Fouquet laughed menacingly.
"You forget Louis. You may have me cornered, but this is still *MY* kingdom."
He pulled from his pocket a small brass instrument alive with flexing springs and spinning gears.
"You see, this is Hooke's Snuff Box. With one turn of a key, I can affect your time and reality." He added with great emphasis, "I abolished your kingdom with my little finger. I will forever be greater than YOU."
Fouquet then hesitated for a moment, and continued, "But now I'm done toying with you Louis. It's time for you to witness the rise of my great empire- from a cell in the Bastille, along with Colbert, your brother and anyone else who stands in my way!"
Fouquet's voice was beginning to pickup an eery echo as a cold gust swept in to the room and darkness slowly began to fall. Fouquet held the snuff box above his head. A frightened Inge grasped Philippe's arm.
"MAKE WAY FOR THE KING!" bellowed Fouquet, now referring to himself.
At that moment, Händel's Alla Hornpipe began. It was almost as if on queue, and Louis assumed the unfamiliar music was a part of Fouquet's megalomaniac act. Fouquet, though initially surprised, revelled in the score, and began laughing triumphantly.
"You see Louis, it is even God's wi–"
But as Fouquet uttered those words, he was cut off by a large crack. A well-fed Georg Friedrich Händel crashed through the dining hall floor, falling just short of Fouquet and knocking him off his feet. Hooke's contraption flew across the room.

The men all froze for a moment, every eye in the room rapidly darting between their opponent and the object that could change their future. Fouquet was the first to move: lunging forward, he scrambled along the floor towards the ball.
"You lose again, Louis! I will always be better than..."
The deceitful minister stopped mid-sentence as he realised that Hooke's orb was now firmly gripped in Händel's meaty hand.
"Was ist das hier?" He grunted, eying the glittering device with suspicion. "It is having so many dekoration. Total unpraktisch! Why are you wanting such a stupid thing, little French men?"
Fouquet and Louis stared at each other, their faces pale with fear. One turn of that machine could change the world, and despite their contempt for one another, either reality they could create would be infinitely superior to one conceived by a German.

Louis could see behind Fouquet's eyes: his brain was firing away working to figure out how to separate the obese German from his new object of curiosity. But Louis's mind worked faster, remembering a classic German trait had learned from watching Palatine.
"Look at the size of that EIS!" Louis exclaimed, pointing wildly with a shocked expression on his face.
Händel's gut swung as he spun in the direction opposite Louis. By the time Fouquet had realised the cunning of Louis's action, Hooke's snuff box had disappeared along with the king and his companions.
"Scheiße!/Merde!" Händel and Fouquet simultaneously barked in their respective languages.