The Adventurer Is a King?!?!

"The, ah, adventurers await your pleasure, Your Majesty."
"Mm." Ofza's king grunted and stomped over to the tertiary study. He did not want anyone to see him talking to disreputable wanderers with swords and spells as if he acknowledged them as worthy of consideration. He wanted even more to have no need of doing so, but the situation mandated an unorthodox response. His subjects, disappearing? Crops turning black, or red, or into rock? His armsmen had not been trained for such things.
In the study, representatives of a dozen adventuring bands had gathered, some nervous, some affecting disdain for their royal surroundings, some maintaining a professional pose. Ofza looked them all over. A scarred man, probably a soldier or mercenary who liked fighting but hated war. A young man with bright eyes and a permanent smile, possibly insane. And then . . . "What is this? Are you not our cousin of Ertuy?"
The warrior wearing shining armor that seemed proof even against weapons wrought not by men nodded. "Hail, cousin. We heard you had need of adventurers."
"But you are no adventurer. You are a king."
Ertuy laughed. "Yes, a king with sprawling estates. Estates that gave little revenue when we inherited them on account of various nuisances, and therefore we took up arms to instruct the trolls, witches, werewolves, and fairies who abused our hospitality how they ought to behave. We did so, and when we put hands on the treasures they had hidden away from man's knowledge, well, the revenues of our estates seemed small in comparison. Why not continue? That was our thought." "Mm. Mmmmm." Ofza pondered the story. "We do possess arms of better than usual craftsmanship . . ."
"That's the way, cousin!"
Finis