The Swamp Moon King
There’s a gas giant named Zeus in the Organa cluster that is so big that even its moons have moons. These mini-moons are called moonlets. There are 45 moons and over three hundred moonlets. It makes for very complicated diplomacy.
Most of the moons were settled by miners and miners usually travelled in packs united by a common factor. Religion, race, sexual orientation, pro/anti tech, disposition, etc. This resulted in a rich tapestry of moonlets and moons with different cultures.
Resources were too scarce for outright war between all the moons but skirmishes broke out all the time. Diplomats became necessary. The Moon Council consisted of 365 representatives, one from each inhabited moon and moonlet.
One diplomat stood out from all the rest and not just by reputation. He dressed in leaves and rags and had a long beard.
His moonlet was known only as the Swamp Moon and it had a population of one: him. It was the smallest moonlet, just barely over the asteroid line. Because of its size, however, the terraformer machines had given it an atmosphere before the rest.
He had proclaimed himself the Swamp Moon King. He was so ridiculous that the rest of the Moon System decided to go with Prime Ministers, Presidents, High Maesters, Council Heads and Representatives rather than name themselves kings or queens.
He was a lone king here in the hall. He was quite old now. Many of the other diplomats here on the Moon Council had come and gone due to elections, border disputes and death yet the Swamp Moon King remained.
The Moon Council was called to order and The Swamp Moon King sat down. He’d become like a lucky charm to everyone there. He was a legend to them all. Laughed at? Yes. Derided and sneered at? Positively. But something about his ridiculousness compelled everyone else to take matters seriously.
Ever since the Moon Council had formed, there had been no war. Only successful trade. The Council got the feeling that if the Swamp Moon King ever died, that a critical balance would be lost.
So far it hadn’t happened. So here’s to the Swamp Moon King.
tags
Most of the moons were settled by miners and miners usually travelled in packs united by a common factor. Religion, race, sexual orientation, pro/anti tech, disposition, etc. This resulted in a rich tapestry of moonlets and moons with different cultures.
Resources were too scarce for outright war between all the moons but skirmishes broke out all the time. Diplomats became necessary. The Moon Council consisted of 365 representatives, one from each inhabited moon and moonlet.
One diplomat stood out from all the rest and not just by reputation. He dressed in leaves and rags and had a long beard.
His moonlet was known only as the Swamp Moon and it had a population of one: him. It was the smallest moonlet, just barely over the asteroid line. Because of its size, however, the terraformer machines had given it an atmosphere before the rest.
He had proclaimed himself the Swamp Moon King. He was so ridiculous that the rest of the Moon System decided to go with Prime Ministers, Presidents, High Maesters, Council Heads and Representatives rather than name themselves kings or queens.
He was a lone king here in the hall. He was quite old now. Many of the other diplomats here on the Moon Council had come and gone due to elections, border disputes and death yet the Swamp Moon King remained.
The Moon Council was called to order and The Swamp Moon King sat down. He’d become like a lucky charm to everyone there. He was a legend to them all. Laughed at? Yes. Derided and sneered at? Positively. But something about his ridiculousness compelled everyone else to take matters seriously.
Ever since the Moon Council had formed, there had been no war. Only successful trade. The Council got the feeling that if the Swamp Moon King ever died, that a critical balance would be lost.
So far it hadn’t happened. So here’s to the Swamp Moon King.
tags