Numismamonstra

When the leading men of Terschyria invited at public expense Gallos, a man renowned for his insight, it was not without hope of benefiting from the visit. They put to him the following question.
"The king's death has left us without any heir, even disputed. Neither does tradition present a clear procedure for this case. How ought we to decide who shall rule us? Tell us and be rewarded."
Gallos pondered the matter. He said this at last. "This is a simple matter, but as for the rewards, it must be in coins minted after the king's death. Show me those and you will have your answer."
The leading men relied on his reputation and had it done without demur. Soon they conveyed to Gallos a plate covered in new coins. He picked up one, satisfied himself with an inspection, and tossed it back.
"Turn over the coins and behold your new king!"
"What is this? Is this not a portrait of Lundaros the quarry owner?" The men looked through the coins and marveled. "And on each and every one. Certainly he is respected, able in his affairs, and unknown to scandal."
"It that is he, then go find him! I know nothing of it. But did you imagine that the god to whom the inscription on the obverse entrusts the kingdom's welfare is indifferent to you? That is impossible, and for my reward I will take a single coin as proof that the signs of beneficence are everywhere, when we remember to look at them!"
Finis

The Grim Gramble

All was decadence and dancing in the palace when the Grim Gramble came to ruin the fun. The footmen tried to throw it out but were thrown out themselves. The head butler was buffeted hard. The stiff doors were revealed as primarily ornamental.
"I am the Grim Gramble," the thing declared as it moved to pacify the ballroom. The barons took up arms, the counts saddled up indoors though they were, and the dukes prepared themselves in every way to defend their significant privileges, but it was too much for them.
"The Grim Gramble is the grummiest," all wailed. "We cannot by any means withstand it."
"You're slow to learn," the thing told them, "but at last you know. I am the Grim Gramble, and I will have what is promised."
"We promised you nothing!" So cried the dukes, who kept track of that sort of thing.
"Did I say promised to me? I am the Grim Gramble, and if something is owed and not claimed, I will have it."
Hearing that, the nobles fled the palace all the way to a small estate where the master himself labored. They begged Edwin to take the throne after all, for they regretted what they had done.
Edwin listened and marched on back. When he stated his claim, the Grim Gramble lost its strength to resist and had a beating such as no more than a few deserve. Then Edwin became a king who ruled with less trouble than most, for the fractious nobles remembered the Grim Gramble, for one generation at least.
Finis

Happy Post-Apocalyptic Fourth of July!

We partied too hard and destroyed civilization! Well, these things happen. So, anybody the successor of a secret martial arts school? No? We probably should have checked that before we bought the fireworks.

Interregnum

The clouds before the sun proved the king was dead, and the keening in the city confirmed it. Who did not mourn? Even the river ceased in its course for an hour, unwilling to flow as the king's blood did.
The council chose a regent, who wore the mask and the cloak so no god would glance that way and think him a king. He arranged the effort. One crew set out to establish camps along the way while a second began the road to the chosen pyramid. Priests blessed every step of the route. The rich sacrificed and the poor prayed that the pyramid held an excellent king inside.
Pessimists instead called the people to think what would become of them when the pyramids were all demolished, plundered for their kings. Once there had been forty; now eight. Did the end of the kingdom wait after those eight generations?
Not so, said the new king. Soon they would learn to build pyramids again. A river might cease for an hour, but not longer.
Finis

Speaking of Successors

Have you ever seen a story where somebody's mad about being passed over for succession by the master and thought that dude had a point? But then again, it's often unclear why people want to succeed in the first place. The master never seems to be having a fun time. Get off that mountain and become a bodyguard or something.

The Primary Concern When Conferring Special Abilities Voluntarily

What happens if they don't? Presuming it's a limited kind of thing. For instance, if only person in the world can have the Aldebaran power, what happens if the holder dies without passing it on? Think about it. Maybe a fresh new guy will figure it out a hundred years hence. Maybe the closest survivor gets it. Maybe magic is fading from the world because these morons forget the succession part. Whatever it is, have something.

Trends Are Ever in Flux

Out: A woodsman with a secret.
In: Special abilities conferred voluntarily.

Non-Human Politics

A dragon who wins election ten times becomes a dracodecagogue obviously, which is twice as good as a demidracodecagogue. But what do adventurers in non-electoral polities do? Level up off of aristocrats and tyrants? That sounds plausibly bloody. The best method is to have a ton of kids so your heir can farm his half-brothers for XP.

History Corner

Speaking of the Hundred Years' War, the English were right. That's why I refuse to recognize France to this day.