An Ode to .. Lonely King Luxon

A Seat At The Table
King Luxon sits at the head
Of the Great Table of Governance
With a goblet of mead
And a large trussed fowl.
King Luxon turns to the Chancelloress,
But her seat is empty.
“Where is Lady Nicorette?,”
Asks the King in surprise.
“The Lady of the Strait is becalmed
In the Sea of Corolla, Your Majesty,”
Replies his Chief Press Secretary.
King Luxon turns to Doctor Cigareti,
But the Physician of the Court is absent too.
“Where is the Good Doctor?”
Demands the King.
“Last seen being dangled by his feet
By the tartan clad savages of Edinburgh South
From floor seven of their Cancelled Hospice,”
Notes the Chief Press Secretary regretfully.
King Luxon points at the empty seats
That line the Great Table of Governance.
“Where is my Royal Alchemist?
Where is Centurion Coster of the Palace Guard?
Where are all the fricken’ Scribes and Officials?
Where is everyone?!!?”
Barks the Choleric King.
“All banished to the Dark Marshes of Perdition,
Your Highness,” murmurs the Chief Press Secretary.
King Luxon glares around disconsolately.
At the very far end of the Mighty Hall of Governance
A distant figure sits alone at the Small Desk of Opposition.
“Who is that?,”
Asks King Luxon.
“That is the Boy Prince Chipkins,”
Advises the Chief Press Secretary with the ghost of a smile.
The faint and indecipherable voice of the Boy Prince
Drifts plaintively across the very great length
Of the Great Table of Governance.
“I can’t make out what he is saying,”
Grumbles King Luxon to his Chief Press Secretary.
There is no reply.
King Luxon turns in irritation,
But his Chief Press Secretary has vanished,
Just like everyone else.