David Cook: King Pinch

Pinch looked up. The Gur was smiling at the purely larcenous outcome of it all. "You're right," the regulator nodded, "someone needs to be king." He got to his feet, retrieved the bag from Sprite's side, and in the center of the dais unwrapped the Cup and Knife.

"Citizens of Ankhapur, I present myself, son of King Manferic III and Lady Tulan, as candidate for the Cup! Let all who see know!"

Eyes turned in wonder at this new development as an upstart stood before them all with the royal regalia. Whispers and twitters overwhelmed the somber tones of death as even the most dazed could not resist the temptation of gossip.

With all the solemnity he could muster, Pinch wetted the cup with blood from his wounds while Therin mixed the wine. Pinch drained the cup.

The tittering stopped. To the amazement of the onlookers, the golden halo, the crown of kingship, formed on Pinch's brow.

"All hail King Pinch!" Therin bellowed.

"All hail King Pinch," came the reply, weak at first but growing over and over until it was a lusty cry.

"All hail King Pinch, indeed."