The subjects had been of two minds for months, and all that changed on the day they were to hear the new king's first proclamation was who sat in which camp. The people drifted this way and that, swayed by arguments, portents, and simply their mood.
The reason they had for choosing this king was unchanged and powerful: He was the hero who saved the world. Whom did they owe greater gratitude? Who had more might to protect them?
The reason for wishing they had not was clear and direct: He had been raised to fight, not to rule. He knew nothing of diplomacy, had few connections, and required training in every aspect of finance.
The proclamation would presage what kind of rule was to come, whether a disaster of incompetence or a golden age with a god-picked hero at its head. Never had a new king been scrutinized so closely by the people when he came out in his rich robes.
"My subjects!" He raised his arms high in a rudimentary oratorical flourish. At least he had not refused instruction altogether. "It is the custom to print the new king's face on new coins." He lowered his arms. "This is the first custom I will ignore."
The tension could hardly be withstood, but the people listened to the rest.
"My subjects, I propose instead to hold a contest among the hottest chicks in the kingdom to figure out who'd look great on a coin and put her on it. Who's with me?"
The country's greatest reign began among ecstatic cheers.
Finis
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