I have finally decided to post this story, mostly because I can't let 12,000 words of hard work go down the drain without getting something out of it. I apologize for it in advance. It is not a true fantasy story: it is a sort of alternate universe thing, in which I played with a 'what if' that I had running through my head. Enjoy it if you will, but if you don't, don't bother. It was written at a time in my life when I was working on another novel, and needed a bit of a release for my restless and distracted muse.

Chapter 1

Manfred, the king of the Columbian Plains, sat in his high-backed chair reading a pasteboard, hand-bound book that he had picked up in the markets earlier this morning. He flipped the pages idly, reading the book with a lazy indifference. He really did have better things to do, but at the moment none of them seemed so important. He needed time to himself.

Manfred’s eye caught something on the opposite page, and he scanned through the paragraphs to see what it was about. As he did, he felt his face grow hot with anger. He tried to cool himself down, but his attempt failed. He was no longer reclining easily but sitting straight upright in his chair, completely indignant.

The king’s counselor, Julius, walked in carrying a scroll of some sort in his large, muscular hands. “My lord – what are you doing?” he asked.

In response, Manfred suddenly threw the book across the room. Julius jumped.

“Reading,” Manfred scowled.

“My lord, what is the trouble?”

Manfred rose and walked over to where the book lay on the floor. He kicked it with his foot, and then picked it up. “This,” he said. “Look here where it says this,” he held the book up to Julius and pointed with his finger.

Julius scanned the page. “Something about telepathic dragonriders, my lord. What about it?”

Manfred paced over to the window. “I don’t suppose you read much of this popular new genre, do you? This... Fantasy?”

“My lord,” Julius said politely, “you yourself have said that there are more important things to do than read for pleasure. The last book I read was one of the classics, by the title of – “

Manfred waved the response away with a wave of his hand. “I know,” he said. “I want you to know that I have been guilty of breaking my own advice, so from now on you don’t have to confine yourself to classics.”

Julius nodded. “My lord, please: what is the matter?”

The king walked over to Julius. “If you had been reading Fantasy, you would have realized that the idea of telepathic dragonriders has been used in dozens of books. It has simply been overdone!”

“My lord – “

“And not just this, Julius!” Manfred interrupted. “Every good idea in any piece of literature has been used over and over again, copied by uncreative bums who call themselves artists. If there were only a little copying, I wouldn’t care as much, but it has become an epidemic! There are no true, creative artists left in the Columbian Plains!”

“My lord,” Julius said. “You’re overreacting. You buy one pasteboard book in the market, and you think it’s an epidemic. There is no other evidence of this.”

“Yes there is,” Manfred said, walking over to commune glass. “On the Community Network.”

Manfred touched the glass, and the surface came to life, displaying lighted text.

“Take me to the display for Columbian Fantasy Author's Community,” Manfred said to the commune glass.

The glass immediately came to life, colors dancing and playing over its surface, until before the king and Julius appeared a screen displaying the Network headquarters for the online publishing display. On the screen were numerous links to different stories.

“Feel free to look through the descriptions!” Manfred said sarcastically. “Every one of them will contain a recycled idea, you can count on it!”

Julius stared at the glass for a few minutes, scrolling through the different stories and their descriptions. “My lord,” he said at last, “You do have to give these authors credit; most of them are teenagers.”

Manfred had been flipping through the end pages of the discarded book, and now he walked over to the glass. “Interesting,” he mused. “Quite interesting.” He returned his attention to the book. “Ah, Julius!” he cried. “Look here!”

Julius looked, and saw he was looking at the author’s brief autobiography at the back of the book.

“It says here that he’s 15!” the king said.

Julius looked up at Manfred. “What is your point, my lord?”

“My point,” Manfred said, “is that teenagers are responsible for most of the plagiarized work that is circulating around my kingdom!” He snapped the book closed with a bang. “If they stopped writing, then the literary world would be free to create new ideas.”

Julius stared at the king. “You aren’t suggesting...”

“If I passed a law forbidding teenage novelists from practicing their craft, then the Columbian Plains wouldn’t have to deal with this junk,” Manfred said, throwing the book on the floor again.

“My lord, you know that would interfere with the freedom of the press,” Julius reminded the king. “It would go against your principles!”

Manfred thought about this for a moment. “Julius,” he said. “You know I care greatly about all forms of art.” He turned and looked out the window. “I do not wish to deprive my subjects of their freedom. But I think that we should restrict this mindless writing until these young novelists are old enough to write responsibly.” He snapped his fingers. “Servant, bring me pen, paper, and my royal seal!”

Julius shook his head while Manfred wasn’t looking, wondering what on earth his sovereign had just done.