The Co-Ed Olympic Running Team

Kneel, then. And for the love of all that's holy, stop shaking, Gerald, the sword's not even sharp on this side.

Terrified of swords. In the year I've trained you. This is coming out now, at the ceremony, in front of the King's actual portrait — Gerald, that painting can see you sweating.

Bridgetown was a parade, Gerald. You fainted into a barrel of turnips. I know because I was the one who pulled you out by the ankles while the crowd cheered for someone else entirely.

Insist? Gerald, the King himself picked your name out of a hat. A hat. I begged him to reconsider, I offered him my own horse, and he just said "destiny works in mysterious ways" and ate a grape.

Careful, Gerald. That's treason, and treason is the one thing this ceremony sword actually is sharp enough to handle. I checked. This morning. Just in case.

Wooden sandals. That's the dream, is it? Not glory, not a castle, not a single dragon — sandals. Fine. Kneel properly this time, and repeat after me: "I, Gerald, do so swear to defend the realm—" and stop looking at the door, Gerald, I bolted it."

That is not the oath, Gerald! You're supposed to say "defend the realm," not plot a fruit-based regicide mid-knighting! And bolted door or not, keep your voice down, the portrait has ears painted right into the frame, I've always found that suspicious!

The north tower, yes — the same north tower where the last three men who whispered treason ended up as decorative statuary in the east garden. Coincidence? I water those hedges myself, Gerald, and I could swear one of them winked at me.

Co-ed Olympic running team. Gerald, there is no running team. There has never been a running team. You made that up during your fever last winter and I let it go because you were delirious and I felt bad — but you've built an entire treasonous knightly order on top of a hallucination!

Doubly minted— Gerald, you are not even singly minted yet, I haven't tapped the sword on your shoulders, you're just a man kneeling on cold stone announcing regicide! Put down the — where did you even get a second sword?!

Gerald, do NOT open that shutter — you're a cheap-sandal-selling, turnip-fainting, fever-dreaming blacksmith who just invented democracy on the spot, nobody is going to believe you, they're going to believe me, and I am about to tell them you dragged me into this!