[ 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 .

The bright interior of the official throne room was illuminated by the powerful sun shining through the stain glass windows lining the long hall, creating a mighty atmosphere for the change of kings. 
 
 Royalty displayed themselves like a wedding party: the two princes on the left and the three princesses on the right. Nobles lined and sprinkled the ornate hall. The fragrant air wafted with scents of roses, sunflowers and a varity of herbs. Down the hall strode the bishop to perform his abdication duty, a formality, but required. He thoughts upon snacks, high quality, kingly snacks. A slight smile warmed the solemn bishops face a little. 
 
 The weak and weary king rose from his throne, raising his hand for silence. 
 
 `` Thank you for gathering here today. I will not be leaving for awhile yet, but today is the day to release my crown.'' 
 
 Knowing murmers swept through the crowd like a new broom freshly thrashed on a dirt floor. 
 
 `` Horswald! You have some food, I mean, good, ideas for being king... Where are you?'' His aged eyes dart for his friend and servant. `` Ahh, there you are...'' He laughed and contined,''... at the tortes... Come come!'' 
 
 Raising his crown, the King says, `` Wait a minute!'' And sets his crown back on his head. `` That is where it goes for now, because...'' 
 
 Murmurs again swept through the crowd, this time looking like like ripples and waves in a studied bowl of water. 
 
 `` Tortes please!'' He called, his face lifted in triumph. 
 
 Laugher and chuckles bounced through the room, echoing softly off the royal walls. 
 
 A servant swarms to his side, proffering baked goodies. 
 
 Taking a bite, he sits down and crosses his legs, leans back and lifts his arm theatrically, raising the torte high. 
 
 `` Just kidding.'' He coughs, projecting a few bits of carbs and sugars out his orifice. More slowly this time, he stands. 
 
 `` Horswald...'' He announced, as he places the torte on the tray before removing his crown. `` It is time.'' The king gestures in front of him, welcoming and insisting the presence of Horswald. Horswald kneels. 
 
 Gasps and frustrated noises dared permeate the silence. Many dukes and barons would be forced to change political tactics and other interesting courtly affairs. The royal princes, each shocked in their own despair, -- although one secretly relieved for he is a monk at heart -- quietly made unsatisfied vocalizations. 
 
 `` I have made up my mind.'' Thundered the king. `` I am neither required, nor beholden, to any of you!'' 
 
 `` Bishop!'' He declared, thrusting the royal crown forward, perhaps the last official thrust the king would ever make. `` Horswald is my successor.'' 
 
 
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