Sol Wednesday 18th

The peasants flock beneath my throne casting a disgusting stink through the castle. Luckily they cannot reach me, their foulness blocked off by the presence of my guards and servants. 

"What do you need my peasants, is my land and love not good enough for you."

"No, no my king, we have but one request," they reply timidly,"We wish for you to lower the taxes."

I laugh, dismissing their petty words. Of course my peasants. I proceed to erase the taxes. All of the sudden the peasants run up the stairs, brandishing fierce looks and clubs. I scream and call for my guards to help me, but they do not, for the king shall be exiled.