There were only five people in the waiting room of the royal hospital. One of these was the highly esteemed Madam Haclaire, who lay backwards like a pale dish rag in the arms of a deathly pale Robert. He stared ahead in bewilderment. Their universal silence was shattered head-on by the loud, continuous sobbing and sniffling of a collapsed pacer who had singularly lost all sense of time. Next to him sat a grey-green Siel Eggers with his hands in his hair and diagonally across from him an unknown man lay with his leg at a strange angle, snoring loudly. The pacer was just starting to honk into his handkerchief when the doors flew open and a doctor dressed all in white walked up to the foursome. Immediately the king's personal counselor flew to his feet.

"Do you have any news?"

Doctor Amandee sighed. 'I regret to inform you that the king still has not woken up. The poison has paralyzed his muscles and he is currently being ventilated by an air troll. So you won't have a king for at least a while.'It came like a bolt from the blue and Madam Haclaire burst into heavy sobs.

'What should we do now, Siel, who can give our country an equal government until our lord has sufficiently recovered?'

Although the counselor would have liked nothing more than to answer 'I', he kept this statement to himself. After all, it was his fault that the king was currently dying, even though he tried in vain to shift the blame solely onto the shoulders of Pippin and the buron. In a voice steeped in emotion, he said, "Robert, I instruct you to convene the Court Functional Citizenship for an emergency meeting this afternoon. Then we will have to decide who will take charge in these difficult times.'Robert tucked his handkerchief into his coat and nodded diligently.

'I also count on this to be done discreetly. The last thing we want now is to spread unrest and panic.' With these words, the last of which he had practically swallowed, Siel stood up and swerved with an unsteady step towards the door. Just before he disappeared from view, he grabbed the tablecloth from a table and continued gagging his way outside.

The pacer clung to Robert. 'I will help you ensure that this can happen in as little time as possible because only if we join forces will we overcome this.'Robert nodded gratefully and pulled himself to his feet. On one side of him, Madam Haclaire also stood up, her dress damp with her tears. On the other side, the pacer pulled himself up on the same cloth and hooked up. He pressed his tempo timer to his chest, sniffling, as his only comfort. So the three of them staggered to the exit, leaving Doctor Amandee behind, who in the meantime also started wiping the crocodile tears from his eyes.To Robert's surprise, everyone showed up at the perfect time. Normally this would have brought the pacer into euphoria, but due to the circumstances he noted these time results in his notebook with a blurry look. Slumping in his chair, he fished one handkerchief after another from a basket and then tossed them carelessly onto the empty spot next to him. Alongside this empty chair, sat Siel, half drowning in his cape, which he had tied above his chin to cover his gray complexion. He stood up with shaky legs.

'Dear members of the Courtly Functional Citizenship, first of all I ask you all to pray for the speedy recovery of our king. However, due to this terrible tragedy, we are forced to appoint a replacement king. King Sebastian Van Denderslag has refused this offer even though he has been debating becoming co-king of Yths for years. Anyone else interested in this temporary position?'

No one dared to raise his or her hand.

'Then I will give you all two days to look for a possible solution and preferably even a replacement leader. During that time we will draw up an emergency plan to keep the situation under control. I also impose a duty of confidentiality on all of you. As long as the people are at peace, everything runs a little more smoothly. I hereby declare the emergency meeting closed. But let us all strike another Yths sign for our beloved king. '

Everyone present took turns tapping their hearts, shoulders and foreheads. Then they all started to move towards the exit, while Robert and Janus handed out baskets of handkerchiefs. Only when all the snot rags caused the many waste baskets to overflow were the large doors closed behind the last spectators. There they walked with a straight face towards their horse-drawn taxis and noble carriages, although their looks betrayed the sadness and despair they tried in vain to hide.

Robert sat around the table with Madam Haclaire, the counselor and pacer. Somehow they had taken it for granted that he should join the emergency planning corps, as the pacer had baptized them. Only Dirrek Waldeman, the Prime Minister of OPEMAS (unrest, panic and other social disorders) was also present because he felt he had the authority to do so or simply because it was raining cats and dogs outside and he didn't think this was weather to chase a dog through. , let alone himself. To drown his sorrows, he had already downed so many glasses of red wine that he had stretched out on the sofa bed and the 'I'll close my eyes for a moment to think better' had turned into a deep sleep.

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"So," the pacer interrupted his snoring, "I would call in a seer who can tell us what the future will bring, so we can already act in that direction and that makes it a lot easier."

He had now regained his normal fast manner and was talking to the walls at a barely manageable pace.

Siel coughed. 'Of course we don't do that. That is completely pointless. If our future is already determined, we will naturally act on it and there is no point in hiring a quack to tell us what will happen. While that is predetermined and therefore without saying that what will come will come, will come.'

The pacer stared at him in bewilderment for a few seconds. 'Siel, my friend, besides paying attention to your speaking pace, you should also ensure that what you say is understandable instead of such nonsense.'

The counselor flew to his feet, snorting. "Idiot thermometer, I just want to say that I'm not going to spend a damn cent on some fool with a crystal ball."

He pounded his fist forcefully on the table one more time to emphasize his words, then allowed

Madam Haclaire to calm him down. Purple clouds fluttered across the table.

Meanwhile, Robert was scratching the back of his head.

'And what if we bring in a herbal healer. I know a woman from the Rode Appelstraat who, thanks to her husband, has quite a few contacts with some local herbal healers.'

'Disapproved,' said Siel immediately, still not fully recovered from the insult thrown at him,

'some idiot who comes to gas our Lord Majesty's sick room with a bowl of warm water and half a bunch of bamboo until the king himself chokes to death. not in it.'

Madam Haclaire let out an indignant "Oh."

"We can get a noble from Goldilocks's royal house, such men are trained to rule countries and bring them to ruin, whichever you prefer of course," the pacer suggested. "Even if they do make a mistake and it ends quite badly," he added in a mumble.

Robert shook his head. 'That takes a sea voyage and four land borders before you get there and until then there is still no king. Yths will be destroyed before you return.'Fiercely waving his pacer, the pacer defended himself. 'I can perfectly calculate how quickly we will have a new capable monarch and with a detour of two national borders we will avoid the greatest danger.'

'Maybe,' began Siel, who was gradually starting to get fed up with it, 'we should just do that, you go and hopefully you never return. Then I will personally send you all the palace bells and we will get rid of them immediately.'

The pacer flew to his feet in a frenzy and grabbed Siel by the collar. "YOU BRUTE!" he shouted so loudly that Dirrek Waldeman jerked to his feet and smacked his head against the charred chandelier. He sank back down, groaning. Madam Haclaire rushed over as Robert tried to shield the pacer from the riot fire as it squeezed Siel's throat. It took every effort for him to keep some distance between them. When he himself received a few blows, he withdrew his arms, so that Siel crashed into the head of his would-be enemy.

'ICE!' shouted Madam Haclaire to the butlers Edgard and Eugène, who watched this indecent spectacle with gloating pleasure.

A few moments later, the three highest positions of the Citizenry sat side by side on the sofa bed. Two of them held an ice towel pressed to their foreheads. Siel, in turn, had two metal cuffs on his wrists to control himself. The only lady in their party had poured herself a large glass of port to calm down and Robert wiped the sweat from his face.

"So we won't get anywhere like that."

Dirrek Waldeman adjusted his tie decently.

'If a man of status tries to take a nap, it is unheard of for someone to brutally chase him against the ceiling.'

The pacer poked him roughly in the side.

'If a man thinks he is being lazy in a crisis meeting, he is definitely out of place here.'

"And if a man can't accept criticism, he better grab his button device and disappear," Siel snapped at him in turn.

"If you don't come up with ideas yourself, someone should do it in your place," the pacer told the defense.

"And if all three of you don't keep your mouths shut, I will personally shut it down," Robert added resolutely.

They were silent. Siel Eggers looked at his long fingers that were still turning light purple. After a long silence they decided to take a more civil approach. Together they drew up the vowel plan, consisting of the letters A J I E E: analyzing, judging, individualizing, executing and evaluating were the tasks for each meeting. Just before they would all return home disappointed, Madam Haclaire also came up with a small but brilliant idea: a royal election. Through auditions they would select the best candidate kings who would then compete through numerous trials for the title and task of replacement king. Surprisingly enough, everyone agreed with this and they decided to respond to the results of the Courtly Functional Citizenship tomorrow. If no solution was found, they proceeded to the elections. There was only one drawback. Then they would have to announce to all the people that His Royal Highness had almost been murdered and was currently lying under a white sheet fighting for his noble blue blood while an air troll blew puffs of breath into his mouth. But yes, when the need is great...