Thursday, May 14, 2015

"We Claim Macedonia", Laird Says

"Inconclusive? Inconclusive!?! Have you gone out of your minds? This was not at all the result I was expecting from you! How effing dare you!!! And you call yourselves my loyal and loving citizens?"

All the little princesses and princes and every other denizen of Southern Charm were startled by the outbreak of anger from the mansion, which disturbed the habitual peace and serenity of the sim. They all recognized the voice of the man who was otherwise known to be the most patient and gentle man in SecondLife and none of them had ever heard him this angry before.

Inside the great mansion on the hilltop a small congregation had assembled, consisting of the Prince Consort Tomais, The Royal Gardner Butch Diavolo-Ğrăçємσûηт, renowned geneticist, the twin-princes Angus Maldor-McMillan and Duncan Aycliffe-McMillan, both well known historians, and lastly - but not least - the cause of all the raucous, the laird himself.

The Much Honored Bock McMillan, laird of Southern Charm, prince of Cascade Falls, Sovereign Ruler of the Commonwealth of Southern Enchantment Region and Outer Territories and finally UN appointed Protector of the Mount Whitney sim in SecondLife, was now seated again after his outburst. His face was dark red and he had an annoyed frown on his face.

Tomais had moved in behind the laird and was slowly massaging his neck and shoulders, once in a while lovingly stroking the head, to calm the laird down. Tomais was seemingly unperturbed by the commotion but small beads of sweat could be seen on his beautiful forehead. The effects of Tomais labors were soon noticed as the laird's face got more relaxed and his body less tense, although he was still apparently displeased.

The other three in the room, stood scowling and scraping with their feet before their beloved laird, clearly apologetic for causing him such discomfort but still adamant in their conclusions.

A month earlier the laird had appointed the three of them to a secret committee with the purpose "to investigate whether or not the laird is a direct descendant of king Alexander III of Macedonia, a.k.a. Alexander the Great, and therefore can rightfully claim the crown of Macedonia". Although the laird had not said it, they had all three understood that the "or not" was merely inserted for pseudo-objective and decorative reasons. However, too much time had passed since Alexanders death in 323 BC and records of the lineage had not been kept, or had been lost, neither was there any known source from which DNA from the great king could be taken to securely establish a claim. Although there were certain DNA-markers and other fragmentary historical facts to support the lairds wishes the evidence was still too complex and inadequate for them to determine a direct and indisputable link between the two great men.

Suddenly everyone in the room could sense that the laird had calmed down and had reached a conclusion. "No matter", he said with a radiant smile, "this is politics, and politics is not about facts or evidence. Politics is about our desires, our wishes and what we want from the future!"

The laird rose from his seat with a loving and grateful smile to his consort and said, "To hell with Greece and that ridiculous country calling itself F.Y.R.O.M., let it be known that from this day we claim the crown of Macedonia. We will henceforth add to our titles 'pretender to the throne of Macedonia and dependent territories' "

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