The King's Game

Jim shifted around in his seat, streched, and yawned. The softness of his chair was making him sleepy, and the fragrance of the room reminded him of lilac. "Lilac," thought Jim, "That's a funny word... Heh, heh. Lilac." John Breasly slammed his hand down on the table. "May I have your attention, Mr. Bloodsilver, please." Breasly slouched back in his throne, and glared at Jim from across the table. On the table before him were three glasses of wine, the meaning of which, Breasly had been explaining before hand. Jim scratched his chin, and sighed, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" Breasly gave a groan, and snapped his fingers. From a small side door, a man carrying a scroll of paperr and marched out, like a dog coming to his master's call. As if on cue, he unraveled his paper and began reading. "Jim Bloodsilver, you are hereby charged with the following crimes. Piracy on the High Seas, heresy against the King of Great Britain-" "Ain't no King of mine!" "Quiet!" Breasly snapped. "Proceed." The man nodded. "The killing of numerous Marines and Sailors of His Majesty's Navy, and the unlawful impersonation of an officer of the East India Trading Company." Breasly clapped and said, "Thank you. You may leave." The man gave a small nod, and left the room with as little impression as when he had entered. "Do you remember why you're here now?" Jim's face changed from an almost bored look to a look of almost complete comprehension, then back to confusion. "No..." Jim said with a breath. Breasly rubbed his brow. "Ok. Let me give you the short version. You messed up. My men caught you. They arrested you. I heard of it, and gave you the choice of-" "Of what?" "Argh!" Breasly gave a short scream. "Sir, you are the most rude and single handedly the most annoying man I've ever met. If you would allow me to complete a single sentence, maybe we could get through this quicker." As Jim opened his mouth to argue back, Breasly pointed at him, "Another word without my permission, and we send you to trial. And..." he added with a grin, "I'm sure you'll lose." JIm sighed, defeated, and sank back in his chair. Breasly continued, his face changing to a slight pinksih hue. "As I was saying, I heard of your arrest and visited you in jail, and gave you a choice. I could let you stand trial normally, or you could join me in a little game of wits." Breasly seemed to be waiting or an answer, until he remembered his orders. With a sigh, he muttered, "You may speak." "Ah, yeah, I remember something about that... It's all kinda fuzzy..." Breasly gaped at him. "Dear... How drunk were you, man?!" Jim's eyes drifted to theceiling before looking back at Breasly. "I was drinking," he asked. Breasly slammed his hands on the table. "That's enough. Should I explain the rules of the game to you, since you seem to remember nothing else we talked about it?