The Emperor's Fourth Sucker
Murmurs stuttered into silence as a figure slithered into the royal court. This was a tentacle to be respected, for it was he who now held command of the Frostkracken Empire in the Emperor's absence. He was known by many names and titles. The Slippery Tentacle, Champion of the Frostkracken Army, Hero of the Imperial Order, Scourge of Thieves, Warden of The Thrown Ink. Renowned for mastery in all forms of underwater combat, veteran of a thousand battles. The Emperor's Fourth Sucker!
As he approached the Urchin Throne, an adviser scurried forwards, nervously presenting a small parchment. "The Emperor's instructions, milord."
The regent took the message carefully, holding it up with great care to inspect it.
A moment passed. Two moments. Then, it came.
"What do you mean the Emperor left behind written instructions? I CAN'T READ, YOU WHALISH BLUBBERING IDIOT!"
This was a disaster. The only thing the Emperor had actually
told him before appointing him regent, was not to trust anyone in parliament, only himself and the cabinet. Unfortunately, the whole cabinet went with his royal sliminess on this blasted golden crusade, so if he wanted anyone to read this note, he'd have to
trust someone from parliament. The regent weighed it up, and decided he'd rather not risk it. Better no instructions at all than potentially doctored orders from the mouth of a greedy noblefish.
Everything was different in the capital. The Emperor's Fourth Sucker he may be, but he had grown up in a small village called Darkfin, and in adolescence had joined up with the Frostkracken Army. He had spent more of his life raiding outside the Empire than he had within it, and only stepped inside the Sharksbite Gate twice to receive Shells of Valor. You learn little of culture and history when perpetually caked in blood and glory. He feared not assassination nor rebellion. What he feared was mistaking a priestess for a whore or forgetting which breeds of sea slug were sentient and which were succulent.
"FILTHY INBRED SCROUNGERS! I'll not have anyone making a mockery of me... how dare you expect handouts? Do I look such a fool that you can brazenly ask for slaves and gold with nothing in return, you..."
A small cough came from his left hand side, and as the bubble floated past his head, the regent's 3 hearts sank. That cough could only mean one thing. He bent low, for the Emperor's First Assistance Crab to scuttle up to his ear.
"Milord. These are emissaries from the plankton... surely you know..."
"Lets just assume I don't know." He interrupted gruffly. This was the fourth time that phrase had been clicked in his ear.
"Well plankton feed and shelter us all, milord. They willingly sacrifice themselves in their millions for the whales, they surge past our reefs cleaning them constantly, and they line the Seaweed Fields with their dead, fertilizing the earth. There were centuries of war between the plankton and the rest of sea-kind until a decade ago. We used to aggressively harvest them for treaties with the whales, and murder them in millions with electric eels just to have clearer water. In retaliation, they would form matted webs of themselves, and block our gills and scratch out our eyes. Emperor JonathanCrazyJ, praise his slime.."
"Praise his slime" echoed the regent, a second later..
"He brokered a deal with the plankton, where they would willingly sacrifice just enough of themselves to serve us, and in return each month we would provide them with as much gold as a million of them could carry, and 30 slaves to carry their dead to The Seaweed Fields, and carry back Phytoplankton - that's plankton food - back to Planktopia."
The regent sighed, and waved forward the slaves and gold. Who knows what they needed gold for, but he couldn't face another culture lecture now. He headed out of the throne room and went for his enforced daily prayers ("DAILY? You mean I have to suffer an hour of this dull fiction a day?!") stopping off for an algae lunch ("But this is krill-food!") because once a week the Emperor shows his respect for all sea life by abstaining from living creatures.
All in all, he was bored, hungry and frustrated by the time he arrived at the theater that low-tide. He struggled with himself not to snap off his adviser's claws and suck them for crab-meat when it coughed at him before the show was about to start.
"It is customary, milord, for The Emperor to open the low-tide show with a song or poem. Will you be adhering to this?"
"No. Oh go ink yourself, fine..."
"Fish, folk and tentacles here,
good luck with your show....
..."
*click click* "...let's give them a cheer." *click click*
It was incredible. At the lowest tide every month, it turned out the Royal Theater School (of Fish) put on a production of the Emperor's choosing, but today the little genius adviser crab had organised to give the order for the show himself.
It was beautiful, a decadent, detailed and dramatic history of the Empire. Everything from the Ritual of Shark-Tooth (where The Emperor had subjugated the sharks, and each young shark offered a single tooth in penance for the Sharksbite Gate) to the Bloodwater Sacrifice, where Sea-Priests go to the underwater volcano, The Great Bloodwater, and fry off their extremities to appease the gods so the Volcano won't erupt further and swallow any of the surrounding cities.
The regent wiped an ink-drop of pure emotion from his sucker, and turned to the adviser crab.
"Thankyou. I understand now the sanctity of my position. Will you continue to aid me, despite my rudeness today?"
"It is my duty, milord. Now, it is customary for The Emperor to perform a naked dance or backflip at the close of the show..."
The regent looked horrified, until the crab clicked exuberantly, and he realized it was all in jest.