"As we walked out from the clearing, I soon found myself traversing a long but dark passage. Although the night was dark as pitch, Krish-doo-lah led the way confidently even though I could not see two paces in front of me.

Soon we arrived at a mouth of a cave, and I noticed flickers of light within. We walked into the cavern – I was amazed by the romantic setting laid in front of us. Candles were lit across a wooden table, while layers of gossamer-fabric adorned its surroundings – quite alike a four-poster bed! Krish-doo-lah introduced this subterranean as “Goo-ah Salad-a” and I took a quick assessment of the activities around me. Villagers were being served by a very youthful and energetic group (I wonder what happened to their elders?) and they were sampling a concoction of some local tubers and vegetables. I also heard music being played in the background as the islanders chattered in conversation.

We did not tarry long in that place as Krish-doo-lah signalled us to move on. Instead of returning to the mouth of the cave, we were led further inwards and I realised in bewilderment that this was actually an underpass beneath the ocean. After taking several hundred steps in darkness, we began to hear drums beating from a distance … "

King O III’s reverie was rudely interrupted with a burnt tongue when he shovelled the steaming soup greedily into his mouth …. (to be continued)

As King O III dug into the inviting carrot and leek soup (apparently prepared from Sir Kilnery’s renowned kitchens), his mind drifted back to his little adventure … 

“Krish-doo-lah led me to a little pier where we got into a boat which he called “Sam Penn”. He paddled effortlessly to another island and as we drew near to shore, he shouted repeatedly – “Jarree Jarree”. We stepped onto shore of the island which I will now refer to as Jarree Jarree Island.

Advancing only a few more footsteps, I was shocked to see hung across the swaying palms – these grotesque looking, swollen, semi-bloated chopped hands and fingers! But there were no signs of blood on them and they were instead pale white and yellowish in colour. Villagers came out to greet us with platters of finger food …no no, I don’t mean chopped up fingers (not that gross!) but rather bite-size morsels of food. I must admit that despite the ambience of the scary-looking hands and fingers above … the food were delightful and charmed the royal tastebuds. But somehow it has a funny effect on me – the hanging bloated fingers started to resemble udders … ready to be milked! 

I later inferred from Krish-doo-lah that this was an annual event for the local tribes … a festival to honour God and to foster closer bonds of fellowship among the tribes living all over the archipelago of islands. “Mar ree, mar ree …” Krish-doo-lah shouted, waving his arm back and forth over his head – he was urging the group of villagers to move on …"

With a slanted smirk drawn across His Majesty’s face …. his thoughts flashed back to the enchanting encounter he had during his journey home, a secret escapade which he was not ready to divulge even to his endeared Drago and Yeonix. One wonders why? Maybe it is only human nature desiring a reclusive corner from time to time?

In a ‘whoosh’ … his memory fleeted back to the day when ….

“I found myself lying on a sandy beach and not the comfortable bunk which cradled my slumber on my voyage home from the Forbidden City. The crescent of the moon shone dimly through the gradually moving clouds as a sudden grunting voice exploded above my throbbing head. For a moment, I imagined the privilege of receiving direct divine revelation as our patriarch Moses did, but the unintelligible sounds of “Bang ngoon … Bang ngoon … Two-ann” convinced me otherwise (here I humbly apologise for only being able to repeat sounds that I heard). I was startled by a large pair of eyes – staring piercingly into mine. The eyes belonged to stocky character, his hair cropped short and porcupine-like. He introduced himself as Krish-doo-lah and it was only later that I discovered that he was the caretaker of the islands, given the custody of preserving the well-being and beauty of this haven. 

Sluggishly I sat up and stars exploded behind my eyes. I fell back dazed, trying to stop the spinning inside my head. When I was able to stand on my feet, Krish began rattling and waving his hands, which I could only half-guess what he meant … something about a violent storm and my vessel colliding with the rocky cliff … and bodies being tossed out into the angry waves … I surmised that I was the only survivor.

He then led me inland and soon we arrived at a lane lit by two rows of wooden flaming torches – a dozen on each side. A wooden signboard hung between two palm trees – I could not make any sense of the squiggles on it, but Krish-doo-lah read the sign as “Vale N’ Tinebuff Aesop Rice”. Krish then went in length to explain what it is meant – although I was clueless to what he said but his wave of hands and body gestures spoke a thousand words. I nodded in comprehension and he then signaled me to follow him. Little did I know then of the breath-taking adventure that awaited me …”

It is with much remorse that I pronounce the following:

1. To the mysterious Sultana – In my ardent pursuit to unveil your identity, I have erringly emulated the footsteps of King David. His lust to claim the beautiful Bathsheba clouded his mind as he sent her rightful companion to his doom. Likewise, my foolish desire to glimpse at your unsurpassed beauty behind the veil has driven my kingdom into disarray. In retrospect and godly fear, I should have remembered that you are the wife of Sultan A’imnotshorif Aisiyorpoin, and not embarked on such folly. Forgive me, my fair lady – I cannot bear that you think ill of me.

2. To my amusing knight Sir Kilnery – I grant my pardon and reinstatement of knighthood. Like King David who pined for his deviant son Absalom, so too I look forward to your return. While David left his son unchecked, to me your self-imposed exile was penitence enough.

3. To my dear Queen of Sorr, Principessa Oliva, Contessa de Range, Princess Pariareh, Cleopatra, Mr & Mrs Harry See, Page Boy, Duke Onesto and non other than the AyamSausageDog – I offer my thanks for being my Jonathans and Nathans throughout this ordeal.

With this said, I shall now guard against such frippery in the future and occupy myself once more on fortifying my castle. I will of course still continue to acquaint my loyal subjects with my quests and voyages. As David penned thoughts in his psalms, I leave you with an ode to conclude my heart-felt missive (though I claim no divine inspiration!).

In Time’s fickle glass, the hours ticked by,
I do find myself reminiscing of days gone by
How weary would journeys of life be,
If not for friends who make the miles easy.  

As the fair Juliet once said,
“What’s in a name?
That which we call a rose
By any other name
Would still smell as sweet”

Job Spec : Odour tests are conducted daily on Axillae (better known as armpits), breath and feet of all in the royal household, including visiting dukes, duchess, principessas, contessas and sorreans (this list is not exhaustive and may be further expanded according to the “odour meter” of the kingdom). Tests on above subjects are to be conducted in strict compliance with the deodorant efficacy study.

~By ROYAL DECREE~

but from journeys far and wide

Tho my body is weary and spent

but my mind, in my thoughts – from where I abide

A journey has begun, the quill a new quest pursue.

Patience, my royal cronies, a tale will soon be heard…

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