"We done had our blog in May."

Or, February as the case may be...of last year.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, His Majesty is now available for public audiences."
"Oooh, is he going to perform for us?"
"No, Frances. It means we get to go and talk to him now."
A maid comes from beyond the large double doors leading to the throne room.
"You may come in one at a time." She remarks to the hundred-plus people waiting outside the door.
"How many visitors does she think we need in this castle." A nearby guard muttered, not realizing that the building's design really qualified it more as a palace. The first pair (a group, thus still qualifying as 'one') shuffled into the expansive room. The king was sitting upon his throne, an oversized boom-box shaped into a chair. A CD blasted beneath his royal seat, because MP3 players hadn't been invented yet.
The king motioned with his hand and a nearby advisor told them to speak. Frances' man spoke of some issue, but I hadn't bothered to think up what it was. So, ignoring them.

See, ignoring or passing along the personal issues of his country men was something this king was very good at. Unless it was something particularly important he usually preferred to have discussions scheduled and briefed to him beforehand. This gave him more time to think up ways of avoiding paperwork. The daily audiences had thus become more of a way for lesser lords to plead their causes, or else for the average civilian as an alternative to small claims court. Observe:
The second man to come before the king was an average man in every way. He had a complaint against his neighbor, a woman called Agnes who he most emphatically claimed he did not get it from. The woman's dog had apparently been in his cabbage patch digging up the kids. His Majesty wondered what kind of patch this man had been digging in.
The third person tried to sell him a donkey, the fifth this week. Apparently word hadn't gotten to the screening staff yet that all animal sales were supposed to be directed to either the gardener or the cook. He wondered which one this animal was going to end up with. Hmm, maybe we should eat out tonight...

The cool thing about writing on the internet is that it's rarely formal. So, I don't have to worry about things like tense or the fact that 'so,' isn't supposed to be at the beginning of a sentence.

Midway through the audiences, a handful of apples walked(!) into the audience chamber. They told him a tragic story of genocide and the destruction of their own once beautiful kingdom. Stunned, the king turned and consulted his counselors. His head counselor, a fairly wise woman, had taken the day off. Had she been there, the outcome of this event may have been different. As it was the counselors were stumped. Then the kings mother came in and, upon seeing the distraught apple people, invited them all into the kitchen for lunch while they deliberated. The former-queen makes excellent pies. A little priest?

While they deliberate, allow me to tell you another story. Stop me if you've heard this one. I'll probably go on anyway. Once upon a time, in a very real game, there were a pair of boys. They were allowed to have command of their own military unit - because most Teen rated games are about teens doing things they normally can't. Plus, it's medieval fantasy. Anyway, the non-player character-boy suggests they name the unit "Orange". REJECTED! Then you get to name the unit something totally awesome like "Firbreth" (Firebreath is too many letters), "Wircool", or "Pilika". Yeah.
Assume for now that you take his suggestion and name the unit "Orange". The unit's name eventually becomes the army's name, which (spoiler warning) eventually becomes the country's name. Orange Country. Imagine taking a trip to Orange.

Tour Guide: Hi, there. Welcome to Orange Country. Home to a diverse culture and long proud history. Perhaps you'd like to see our beautiful capital, or some of our wonderful mountains, or maybe the illustrious schools.

Tourist: No, actually. I just wanted to look around a bit.
Guide: Very well, but are you sure there isn't something I can direct you to?

Tourist: Actually, I was wondering where I could find the oranges.

Guide: Oranges?

Tourist: Yes, the oranges. I imagine there must be quiet a market for them around here. I mean, you guys named the country after them.

Guide: Well, actually, no. There aren't any oranges. It's too cold for them, really. A few mandarines, maybe in the southern regions. But, no. No oranges.

Tourist: Oh.....

On a related note, this country gets mentioned in the sequel. By default, the region is called "the Dunan". However, if you register the data from the former game into the sequel it replaces "Dunan" with "name-of-your-choice". The Firbreth, The Pilika, THE ORANGE. And they speak of this place almost ominously. "Looming off into the distance is the eminent potential threat of The Orange."

Oh, look. They seem to have finished deliberating. And what does his majesty have to say about the ap- Oh! Ooooh, how unfortunate. Well, one less thing for you to worry about. Eh, Your Majesty?

POWER OUTTAGE! Oh'p, there goes the blogging.
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