It was many moons since the Chronicler had given up the quill, having lost hope that he would see any visions of chill in Jirria. And yea, the chronicles remained in a state of Beddingfield – unwritten.
It was during this time that the prefecture of Twillistia was ejected from the Kingdom of Jirria. King Gambrach had delivered a speech of great vigour and upliftment to his countrymen, assuring them that there would once again be chill. He also delivered an unthinly veiled message to the people of South Easteros.
“Ye have troublemakers amongst thee, who sometimes forget, perhaps because of my currently amiable and cheery disposition, that I once was a man of Gunn. I fought in the Frabanian wars in which ye were scourged. And there be no chill among thee, behold, I will speak to thee again in a language which ye understandeth!”
The people heard it and there was no gaddem chill in the land. “Knoweth Gambrach not what he threatens?” Wherefore they cried unto Samurai Jack, the King of Twilistia, saying, “Spare us the indignity of Gambrach’s words! Strike them down from the Twilistian annals!! Let them be expunged forever, for his words threaten our mental health and trigger within us much unchill!!”
Sumari Jack hearkened unto their cries and the twinkling of an eye, Gambrach’s words were raptured away from Twillistia in glorious deletus. Whereafter, all the Councillors of Gambrach were incensed, particularly Lar Yi, his Councillor for Misdirection and Propaganda. “Who doth Samurai Jack consider himself to be, that he brings vanishment upon the most hallowed and sacred words of King Gambrach? If he be King of Twillistia, well Gambrach is King of Jirria! And if he wouldest banish Gambrach from Twillistia, then we will purge Jirria of Samurai Jack and the gaddem Twillistines!!!”
The Gambrachian Mumuric Organisation was taken aback, for where else would they be relevant if the prefecture of Twillistia was banished. “Temper this injustice with mercy,” they pleaded. “I shall only temper it with more temper!!” came the charged reply.
And thus followed a time of peace such as had never been seen in Twillistia, for the Gambrachian Mumurics were silenced and others flitted in and out of Twillistia by means of the Valar Propoundis Networks.
In the castle of Bored Dyllon, an aide of Shiwajun asked him, “Is it time, my lord?”, to which he answered, “When it is time, ye shall not be in doubt.”
Shortly afterwards, King Gambrach went on the Char Knells to give an account of his Kingship to the people, through questions from Thankful Peacock and Ma Oprie. “Great King Gambrach, how art thou today?”, they asked him.
“Thank you so much, I am in an agricultural state of health. I’m thankful to the creator for his seedlings of life in the flower bed of my heart. Daily I fertilise my mind with the divine bovine milk of serendipity.”
“Your Majesty, you know that there is much unchill in the land and your centurions labour to defeat the haramites of Boko. When will these travails end?”
“They will end when there is a bountiful harvest of food. Remember when I ordered all the land borders closed and forced us to grow rice? Unfortunately, it is the abundance of this rice that keeps the enemy troops fed. But we are getting close.”
“How about the roaming cattle of the Yetis of Gawd and the village communities being destroyed?”
“We need to make more arable land available for our young people to farm.”
“But this is an era of blocked chains and worldwide webs…”
“Webs, I don’t mind so much, because they are a tool of harvest. But any chain that cannot be put in the soil and watered and harvested cannot be a building block of any sort.”
Ma Oprie was stunned into silence. Thankful Peacock thought he would try one last time. “Wise King, would thou in thine own estimation ascribe success to your Kingship? I only ask because food is much more expensive, conflicts are much more rife, regional travel is much less secure.”
Gambrach answered, “I am grateful that each leg of your question was the word ‘much’ in it because we have done so much, truly. And the icing will be when we give people more seeds and hoes and scythes to till the land. And then I shall retire to my farm.”
“Dear Lord! Very well then, Majesty, who wilt thou have succeed ye on the throne, Old Macdonald? He has a farm and all.”
“Ha ha! I see what you did there,” chuckled Gambrach, “but I shall keep my preferred successor hidden like a tuber of yam, like a husbandried cow, revealing its calf only on the day of delivery.”
The people of Jirria heard it all, and there was no gaddem chill in the land. And in the midst of the furore, the courtiers in Castle Bored Dyllon asked Shiwajun, “Great Earl of Iragbijishire, IS IT TIME?”
Wherefore Shiwajun came unto the people of Jirria and declared, “Behold, I have informed Gambrach that it is my wish to succeed him, yea, it is my lifelong ambition to ascend the Iron Throne of Boo Jar. Verily, ye shall see and hear more of me in the coming months. Electoralis is again at hand!”
And in all of Jirria was there no gaddem chill to be found.