Once upon a time the Prince of CervinError. He inherited the throne from the emperor who, some time ago, with its red and prancing horse was quickly directed to Tergeste. His reign, lying on a lush plain between mountains and sea was crossed by a sweet river, the Alsa. The prince wanted his land so well that often they designed the buildings, houses, and sometimes allowed the passage of new roads. Its turreted castle was made to recognize from afar. A beautiful clock beat the time of his reign. Twenty years. All that time, every day, every single day, looked out the window of the palace and met (but with a latent inexplicable embarrassment), was intended from that confused mess that he himself had forged with his own hands. He ran
fearless. The city grew. And the king was enough in itself. To no one else can help, if not to the few knights of the splicing table.
You must know that every 10 years, the Prince of CervinError used to organize a tournament to decide how to grow the city was named the tournament's Tabula Regular (what is now Plan would call). The battle, virtual, we played on a large wooden table inside the castle. We simulated skirmishes, heated discussions, debates refined. The prince, in fact, like all kings who sit on the throne for too long, did not like being contradicted or disturbed during the maneuver. In short, he liked to win easy. Thus, in single combat, they could take part only riders who had, earlier, pledged allegiance to the sovereign. The serfs and their opponents, were excluded.
After each game the officials of the court, collecting the cards left on the large wooden table to submit to some foreigners who had the task to work with; but elsewhere, away from the sweet flow of the FTA. Officials of the Court, which had all the skills and workforce prepared to handle this delicate, demanding, but at the same time fascinating task had been, too, excluded from the game. Those same officials who for years were seen deposited on the heavy benches drawings signed by the same monarch enjoyed themselves so much that, during a hot summer, in 3 (three) said: "Ohibò, I go! I shall go and serve other realms. "
When the serfs, led by Albert of Udine, from the bottom of the square dared raise his head from the dust to invoke some changes to the rules of the game and, in a faint voice exclaim their surprise assuming a probable mood of officials of the court, were soon silenced by Igilio, the Chamberlain's Court that he shouted angrily: "You crossed the line! You have desecrated the deprivation! (Privacy medieval, ed).
In fact, some time before, repeatedly, but unsuccessfully, the serfs had dared to ask the king to discuss some parchment with the fate of the city. Had exceeded the limit. No one had ever dared so much. None so far, had asked to play a game together (for the good of the city!) On that big wooden table inside the castle ... The
AltrametĂ
PS: Any reference to actual events and / or real people is to be considered purely coincidental.
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