Merrily merrily on they sprang, gaily blithe to all reality's little niggles - for that's all they were really, against nature and the happy things in life, nothing more than little niggles - farting and feasting and fucking their way from great hall to great hall, leaving a trail of rose petals and smiling perversion, and not leaving a single encounter out of their meticulous video diary, which, daily uploaded, was the most popular television show by a long way in this particular parallel universe. The newspapers in the morning were full of gossip about which knight triumphed in the tilt, and the massive 'roast' he hosted after, people in taverns cheered as they saw a slow-motion replay of a dick-shrinking enchantment ministered by the old hag, and peasants downloaded as their ringtone popular minstrels' refrains, or the dashing and cruel young Sir. Thos. Mountfort delivering yet another winning roundelay to a fair maiden, so effective at filling her bosom with the hope of love that she willingly invites him to lay immediate and wasteful siege to her inner keep...
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