The grimoire section of the library here is SO lame. I read everything in a day! There has to be a decent book somewhe... Ugh. Here comes the pompous buffoon.
Xander: Ha HA! Another splendid day of peace and obeisance throughout my castle. The help are smiling their charming, commoner smiles, and all is as it sho... Ugh, it's that swaggering ninny.
Ezelith: Hey! Make room for a genius here!
Xander: It is YOU who will make way, serf! A king does not step aside for the help. It simply is not done.
Ezelith: There's only one ruler in this castle, bub, and he ain't you. Now take your puffed-up airs and move 'em two feet to the left!
Cleo: If you're going to squabble, do it outside.
Xander: This is hardly a squabble. I'm simply educating this woman about her proper social station.
Ezelith: Oh yeah? So what's the social station for ＂used to be a king before his own people threw him out＂?
Xander: How DARE you?! I was willing to let you off with a stern warning given your obvious lack of proper boarding-school education, but this insult will not stand! I know you have named yourself as some manner of ＂genius,＂ but no amount of bookish learning can change your birth. You, madam, shall always be common!
Cleo: You two are a perfect match. If your egos were any larger, they wouldn't fit inside your bodies. Shall we settle the pecking order for good? Would that put an end to this idiocy?
Xander: A brilliant idea! ...Especially considering it comes from one of my lesser vassals.
Ezelith: You're on! One spell, and I'll have you fried to a crisp!
Cleo: No violence. We keep this peaceful. I will choose the contest, and I alone will judge the victor. Is that acceptable?
Ezelith: Fine! There isn't a competition in the world this stuffed shirt could beat me at.
Xander: I accept your terms as well, good woman, for a king fears no challenge!
Cleo: Then we're agreed. Now, let's take this to a more fitting venue. Now then. The event I've selected is... Laundry. Whoever gets their pile cleaner faster wins.
Ezelith: What?! Doing laundry isn't—
Cleo: Three, two, one...begin.
Ezelith: Hey! I'm talkin' here! LAUNDRY?! Is this some kind of joke?
Cleo: The contest has already begun. Or do you forfeit?
Xander: Ha HA! How terribly lowborn of you. It seems victory is already mine. Some genius, if a little bit of washing is enough to send you packing.
Ezelith: Okay, I've heard enough from you two! I'm a genius at everything—stupid laundry included. Watch and be amazed! Washtub water, churn and spin. Help this genius girl to win!
Cleo: Impressive. The force of the whirlpool is breaking up even the stubborn pottage stains, leaving behind a sparkling white.
Ezelith: Now THAT'S how you do laundry. Let's see you try, Lord Tightbritches. I'll bet you've never washed your own clothes once in your life, you spoiled—
Xander: Ah, but there you would be wrong. Behold the king of washing!
Ezelith: That fluid motion... That technique... How the heck are you GOOD at this?!
Cleo: Remarkable. It's like watching myself.
Xander: Ha HA! Do you see now, churl? I told you a king fears no challenge! I have been living in exile ever since my vassals staged their coup. In my months of wandering, I've learned how to manage rather well on my own.
Ezelith: How did you make THAT sound pompous?!
Xander: That is my kingly aura you're finally detecting! ...Rather slow on the uptake, aren't you?
Ezelith: Rgh... W-well, I was still faster! Judge! Who's the winner?!
Cleo: A magnificent showing from both of you. I fear it's too close to call. We'll simply have to hold another contest and break the tie.
Xander: I've other matters of state to attend to! ...But I suppose this must come first.
Ezelith: Fine, whatever. What's next?!
Cleo: Dusting. The armory is a pigsty.
Ezelith: Oh, this is gonna be a piece of cake... Winds, sweep all these weapons neat. Hand this dolt a swift defeat!
Cleo: Er, Ezelith?! Using wind magic will only kick up all the... ...dust? My goodness. The whirlwind trapped it all and blew it out the window.
Ezelith: Leaving the armory spotless, I might add. There's nothing left to clean here! If that isn't a clear victory, I don't know what is.
Xander: Ha HA! Oh, you poor, naive thing. The armory has been cleaned to perfection without me so much as lifting a finger. THIS is how a king dusts—by having his vassals and lackeys do it for him!
Ezelith: Could your logic BE any more tortured?! Judge, back me up here!
Cleo: You have a point about the torture... But you said yourself that it was logic. I'm afraid we have another tie.
Ezelith: Okay, that is just STUP... Rrrrgh! Never mind. You'll just disqualify me if I complain. FINE. Next contest!
Cleo: Next is a cooking showdown. Let's move to the kitchen and—
Xander: Cooking, is it? An easy victory!
Ezelith: In your dreams! I'm going to crush you like an egg filled with grapes filled with something else really crushable!
Cleo: No running in the castle, you two! *sigh* They really are a perfect match... I wonder if they'll catch on before my chores are done?
Xander: Enough dawdling, help! Come along!
Ezelith: Yeah, we need you in the kitchen to judge!
Cleo: All right, all right, I'm coming. It's a cooking contest, not a race.
Neither king nor genius sits at the top of the castle pecking order— It is—and always will be—Mom.