Vast Empire

My bath took longer than expected. Apparently my servants obey the "lather, rinse, repeat" rule, which I must remember to abolish. In fact, there are many laws here which seem completely absurd and archaic, but I am trying not to rule with an iron paw by massacring the constitution within my first year as exiled monarch. In the meantime, the garrapata situation is getting under control, but occasionally I see one of my blue blood-sucking tenants thrashing helplessly on the floor next to me. I have no mercy on these parasites.

One of the first items of business upon arrival was to survey my new land. Since a kingdom is powerless and doomed without access to the ocean, I immediately summoned my coachman to take me to the coast so I could witness my mighty fleet. To my dismay, an armada it was not--just a few pathetic fishing vessels with a drunken sailor as their captain. As I looked out over the Pacific (see photo), I cursed the jester and the maiden for having made a mockery of my royalty. But I could see my empire was vast, and it needed a mighty king to lead it to victory.

Coup d'état

The garrapata issue seems to be subsiding, though a few continue to linger and fester under my chin. It is quite repulsive and an unfortunate byproduct of this tropical climate. This morning, I am eagerly awaiting my bath to be drawn, and until then I can expound on how I arrived at my current situation.

The details of how I came into exile are sketchy. My previous estate of Miamishire where I resided for several years was comfortably cool and orderly. I entertained a great deal, and my court was very attentive. Oddly enough, the jester lived in close proximity to my sleeping chambers. In hindsight I had good cause to be suspicious of him, but his humour was endearing so I tolerated him.

Then one day, in what appeared to be the onset of a coup d'état, the jester and a visiting maiden abruptly stuffed me into a crate and threw me into a loud and dark chamber. I awoke from my confinement several hours later and found I had been whisked off to some far-off exotic land. The first thing I noticed (aside from the incessant chatter of the jester and maiden) was the heat and dust, and I was concerned that the conditions of my future prison would be insufferable. However, to my surpise, after traveling for what seemed like days down horribly primitive roads, we were greeted by the majordomo of an impressive palace. Immediately upon arrival, I knew this was my new residence. I was escorted instantly to my throne upon which I sat myself most awkwardly (see photo). Evidently my new rule in exile would have its challenges.

King or Sacrifice

Perhaps my current garrapata plague is a good (albeit somewhat shameful) starting point by which to introduce myself. But I have decided it is a typical representation of the changes that I have been forced to endure since I was exiled to this remote kingdom at the base of a volcano. I have not yet been sacrificed into its fiery bowels (see photo), so I figure the natives are either a) not that primitive a species, or b) revere me as their god and thus would rather I be the honoree of such a ritual as opposed to the victim. Obviously, I choose to believe the latter, though being a God-fearing creature, I assure them that I have been deigned by God to be their majesty, but I am by no means their god. Understandably my long golden ears, furry undercoat and short stature have given rise to confusion. But they are simple creatures, and, as their king, I must be patient. However, my patience is running thin if they do not remedy my current dilemma fairly soon.

Infestation

My body is currently host to a number of ticks, or garrapatas as my servants call them. This most irritating infestation of these tiny blood-sucking parasites is preventing me from focusing on the confessional today. Popped a Frontline and will call in the morning.