[ WP ] The King is dying and decides to abdicate his throne before he dies . During the coronation ceremony , he places the crown on a servant 's head and declares him king , rather than one of his two sons .

Ranma laughed, trying to encourage all those in the hall to join. `` My father jests, even in the face of death! Truly a light-hearted man to the end. Now, please, father. Place the crown on either Kalin's head or mine, and be done with the ceremony. We are your loyal sons, here to serve and protect the realm.'' 
 
 The king hacked loudly, coughing blood all over his robe. `` Foolish boy, the only jest here is that you truly think yourself fit for the throne. I have named this servant boy king. Do you not see the crown upon his head?'' He turned to the newly crowned servant. `` What is your name?'' 
 
 The frail slave, dark skin barely covered by tattered rags, was trembling with fear. 
 
 `` Do not be afraid, son. All these years you have served me, and I never thought to ask. Tell the world the name of their next king.'' 
 
 Kalin interrupted, his words a blade, slicing their conversation in twain. `` *Son*? Did you just call that worthless scum *son*? A name which you have not even used to refer to your *actual* sons? You'd tarnish our name with such ease?'' 
 
 `` EASE?'' the king bellowed, finding voice despite his sickness. `` You think it easy for me to do this? You truly are a fool, as is your brother. I'm not the one that ordered the execution of a child for being a besting me in a fight, Kalin. I'm not the one that tortured animals for pleasure in my quarters, Ranma. You're both children, and you're cruel already with what little power you have. Let us make this very clear, sons: *I* am not the one that tarnished your namesakes- you did that yourselves. Do not *ever* think to lay blame on me.'' 
 
 The sons fell silent, their heads hanging in shame, fists clenched with rage. 
 
 The king resumed his conversation with the servant. `` Tell me your name, boy. You've served here many years now.'' 
 
 `` 13 years, sir. I am 17 now. My name is Dhuq'a,'' the boy answered as instructed. 
 
 `` Dhuq'a is a fine name. Tell me something, Dhuq'a- do you want to be king?'' 
 
 `` Well, Your Grace, I... I do n't know that I'm fit to be a king. I merely serve you food and clean, Your Grace. I know nothing of politics or war.'' 
 
 `` Good, politicians make me sick. There are advisors and councils for that, you know. They can guide you, and there are elders to help you learn for yourself.'' 
 
 Ranma burst, no longer able to contain himself. `` Father, please,'' he tried to choke out through tears, `` I promise I'll be a good king. A strong king, do n't give the throne to some... some *filthy* slave, he's not worthy of something so grand. You ca n't just abandon your blood, your sons.'' 
 
 `` See, you bloody idiot, *this* is the problem. Nobody as blind as yourself, even at 20, should be allowed a throne. You do n't care about anything other than being king. It's a toy to you, something precious and you want it. You think it's yours, and you deserve it, just as I did when I was a boy. I tried to raise you two proper, to be someone better than I was at your age, but clearly I failed. Thankfully, I am no longer the man I was. I see beyond bloodlines and smashing villages for power.'' 
 
 `` Please, father, I'll do anything. I'm begging you,'' Kalin pleaded, his knees on the cold, marble flooring. 
 
 `` Anything? Then fall on your sword. You can have the throne when you're dead.'' 
 
 The crowd fell silent after a series of sharp gasps echoed through the sons' ears. Their groveling halted, leaving them staring at the swirled marble dotted with tears, completely taken aback by their father's words. 
 
 `` To see you begging, crying for the throne. I'd hoped at least one of you could remain strong and accept my decision with honor, like a true man of dignity. But instead you grovel and snivel, teary-eyed and weak-kneed. You are not men; you are children. I can not entrust this kingdom to one of you.'' He turned to Dhuq'a and smiled. 
 
 `` Dhuq'a, I hereby name you king of this great realm; Protector of Mundakaa and its cities. You have known pain, growing up a slave. You have known hardship, working every day without complaint, taking beatings at the whim of a cruel master. You know the plight of those in the lower class, and you are a kind, wise soul beyond your years. You have served me well, always, and I can see in your eyes that you will be neither a cruel nor weak king. This is a dying man's last request, Dhuq'a. Be a king for the people, not for yourself.'' 
 
 `` I will try, Your Grace.'' 
 
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