He watched from the shadows of his castle. The townspeople played the sport upon the green pitch, gaily kicking the ball. They tired and broke for lunch and, disappointed, he walked away. Suddenly he turned and, fearing he would miss the rest of the game, he pointed to the ground and conjured a miniature replica of the players. Staring now at the ground as the tiny players resumed their game, unaware they had been tricked, he smiled to himself and let out a little laugh. They dissolved as he walked away.
He was drunk with power, and returned home to sleep it off. In his bedroom, he called for his box. He had conjured a servant. The box came to him, set before him by invisible hands. He smiled as he rummaged through the contents of the wooden box. The deceased had owned several small mirrors, the largest the size of a wallet photo. He found three diamonds in the cluttered box, and greedily pondered their meaning. The largest for the father, then the son, but for whom was the smallest?
The competitor! The grandson.
Closing the box, he found himself too tired to go to bed. He willed the servant carry him, and he was lifted up beneath the arms and brought to bed.
Put my box on the night stand he commanded silently. The box traveled to the edge of the table. Angrily he had it removed again. Do it right this time! The box was placed center to the table.
He slept and the servant departed.
The door opened to the guest's stateroom. A tall, blond, blue eyed man in his early 30's stood up and greeted the servant. Visible now, the servant entered the room. He was equally tall, broad shouldered and dark haired. The servant tried to hide his fear when he saw the guest. The man was dressed in royal medieval garb. He had the visage of the King!
"Please...take it off" he pleaded weakly.
"It's a bit much I know." The guest thought, the party is in an hour, at midnight. I won't have time to get another costume.
"Thank you for bringing me this box." He selected the smallest stone and fastened it to his velvet lapel. He gave the box to the servant.
Outside, a storm was brewing on the island. The townspeople were already furiously partying as violent winds whipped in from the sea. The ground shook and raucous laughter could be heard in the darkness.
The guest's wife, also adorned in queenly regalia, spoke to her husband. Static electricity cracked as she spoke. "What if we lose power!" She was alarmed. Her words were lost on the men. As though she was not even there, her husband never broke eye contact with the servant. He addressed the servant again.
"It's too late to change."
She repeated her fear, and again her words were drowned out by the night and the crackle of static electricity.
"Goodnight" said the King and the servant departed.
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