Double Choice

“Seriously?” I said in total disbelief.

The king loomed above me. Decked out in an enormous crown and gold robes, he was surrounded by wise old men with huge beards on either sides. They examined me with curiosity, waiting for my reaction.

My lawyer, standing by my side, cleared his throat.

“Your honor, please be reasonable, that is not quite how the constitution says things are supposed to go—“

The king’s eyes widened. “Constitution?” he spat, his voice growing louder, “I am your king. I AM the law! What I say is the constitution!”

He slammed a heavy gavel on his podium.

“I will not be challenged in my own courtroom. Is that understood?”

“Yikes,” said my lawyer, leaning into my ear, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

My lawyer took a deep breath and gave the king a genial smile.

“Your honor,” he started in a confident voice, gesturing towards me.

“My client is a good man. His father was a doctor, one of the best in our kingdom, I hear. What happened was an accident. I think he deserves more than a 50-50 chance because of how much his father has served our country. In light of this, maybe we should have a discovery of all the evidence and facts at play here, then maybe have a prosecutor and me, perhaps, joust it out in a verbal battle of persuasion while presenting the facts to convince a jury of peers as to whether—“

“Kill him,” came the King’s voice from above.

A bailiff slipped behind my lawyer with lightning quick speed and slid a knife through his throat in one smooth motion. My lawyer fell to his knees, clutching the open gash on his neck. He collapsed onto his face, slowly painting the carpet in blood.

I slowly let out an exhale, feeling my chest tighten.

“Excellent call, your majesty,” said one of the wise old men, nodding to the king.

“That guy was totally holding us back,” said the king, inspecting his fingernails. “I had to do what I had to do.

The king waved dismissively at me.

“Anyways, I guess you’re representing yourself now. I hope you make the right choice. I hope you know that only a fool would represent himself, by the way.”

I turned to face the end of the courtroom, trying to hide my fury from the king’s eyes while focusing on what I had to do to win my freedom.

Two doors stood side by side. One door was painted gold and had the fanciest doorknob I had ever seen in my life. The other door was wooden, frayed and dull. The smell of rotten wood emanated from it, and I could see a few maggots crawling around the handle too.

All eyes were on me.

I had to make the most important choice of my life. It was a 50-50 chance of hell or freedom. But I had something to go by at least. Judging from how the king behaved, I made a wild guess and assumed the nice golden door led to the torture chamber, and the crappy door led to freedom. It’s just the kind of thing I would expect from someone who was batshit insane, and that seemed to fit the king to a tee.

I stepped forward, heading for the crappy door. No one said a thing, not a single whisper could be heard. I could have at least changed direction if I heard someone gasp or groan or something, but literally no one responded.

Finally reaching my door, I grabbed the handle and pulled.

..And stepped into the bright gleaming air of an afternoon sky. Clouds beaming above me, birds chattering in the trees.

I allowed myself a smile, and walked through the door triumphantly.

A crowd erupted around me. Dozens of my neighbors and what looked like half my village had showed up.

“Oh thank God!” came the cries of several people, and people laughed and hugged in celebration.

”Good job not getting killed, idiot,” came a voice from behind me. I turned to find my best friend, Walter, grinning at me.

“It’s a miracle,” said another voice. I turned to find Isabella grabbing me in a tight embrace.

The king strode imperiously through the door and all the cheers stopped.

“Well done,” said the king, smiling the smuggest smile you had ever seen on a human. “Congratulations for choosing the right door. As king and judge, I hereby declare you not guilty.”

The crowed allowed themselves a cheer at this. The king raised his hand.

“In recognition for your courage and innocence, I hereby give you the job of royal pissprophet, so you may put your medical talent to good use and serve our people once more.”

There was another cheer at this. Mixed with mumbles of confusion and surprise. But cheers nonetheless.

“Piss prophet?” I asked aloud.

One of the wise old men stepped towards me and leaned into my ear.

“The royal piss prophet. Carrying on your father’s talent, you will smell the urine of every man woman and child in the village bought to you in buckets every day. You will then declare them sick or healthy based on your interpretation of how they smell.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said, feeling like all the wind had gotten knocked out of me.

The king strode over to me, dangling a key from his hand.

“This is the key to the esteemed pissprophet’s chambers,” he said, smiling.

I accepted the key, looking at him blankly.

“Use it on the gold door tomorrow. I will have buckets delivered to you early in the morning, so make sure you arrive before sunrise. I hope you will serve as for another 10 years at least, as your father had done.”

The king walked away, laughing, his wise old men chuckling beside him.

OR

The death of fools," Gromen laughed at the guard through the iron bars.

"You think so?"

"I'd bet half a copper that the torture is behind both doors. The king ain't freeing anyone. Not that king anyways. Just think how it looks to the nobility on Handlopen Hill. 'King releases thieves'. They'd spit their wine out of their fancy glasses before telling their butlers to pen a message to him screaming about the safety of the people. No, this is some kind of sick joke."

The guard shrugged. "Jail's too full."

"He wants to save a few coppers to not have to feed a few extra souls that rat-stock gruel we eat. Sick and twisted, that's what it is."

"Yeah, the pay is pretty bad for us too"

"Really? What kind of stingy king doesn't pay his guards well?"

"We're still a lot better off than your lot."

"Thieving pays well when you don't get caught."

"But you all get caught sooner or later," the guard cackled and lowered his helmet. "Let me know if you change your mind about that door."

"You know I won't."

News of any kind was rare in his tiny cell, so Gromen spent all of the next day trying to figure out why the king would suddenly come up with this strange proposition. He thought that the king was killing people who walked through either door, but he was led to wonder if that was really the case. Perhaps there was a way to tell which door would lead to freedom and which to torture. Curiosity getting the best of him, he concocted a plan to convince the guard to let him have an actual look at the doors. He waited until the guard came back with his daily meal.

"Guard. Listen up, I have a plan that can make you rich," he lied.

"Why should I listen to a thief?"

"Because some thieves are rich. Just like I am."

"Before you came here you were so poor you couldn't afford a place to sleep."

"Listen, I've got money buried outside of town. Not much, about ten gold pieces. Enough to put down on a good horse. All of it's yours if you take me to the doors so I can see them."

"I don't believe it, thief. You tell tall tales."

"I promise, as soon as I'm out of here, I'll get you the money. What's there to lose? You just got to take me to the door like you have other prisoners. Then you act like I changed my mind and take me back to my cell. Got it?"

"This sounds like a bad idea."

"You've taken other prisoners to the doors, right?"

"A few," the guard looked nervously from side to side.

"Then no big deal. Come on, just do it."

"Ten gold?"

"I swear on my mother's headstone."

"Alright. Come with me." The guard unlocked the cell and cuffed Gromen's hands behind his back, then led him through several corridors and into a circular room that had two solid red iron doors, neither of them letting any light or sound through.

Gromen was expecting more. "This is it?"

"Yup, that's it," the guard said.

"Guard," a voice spoke from above them.

Gromen looked up and saw a large white bird perched far above them. Is that bird talking?

"Yes?" the guard asked, looking up.

"Did this man bribe you to come see the doors?"

The guard looked around nervously. "Why yes he did."

The bird cawed and then flew down into the center of the room. "I thought so. You see, my dear Gromen, both of these doors lead to freedom. To believe that the king would torture prisoners to death slowly as punishment for picking the wrong door, and to be skeptical of the entire process, reflects the true mind of a thief. We knew that the unredeemable wouldn't come here."

"Sounds like a hell of a trick," Gromen said as he became hot with anger.

"Ahh, but dear Gromen, it is much worse for you. You couldn't turn down the opportunity to lie to this guard in order to find out which door was which. A truly conniving person you are. You are truly fit for the punishment that doesn't exist except for people like you, and you aren't the first. So a door will open in the floor and you will be sent to a death worse than you could possibly imagine."

"Wait, wait, wait-" Gromen pleaded.

"My dear guard, you too will not be spared the irons below. For taking a bribe from a prisoner is a crime punishable by death."

"No!" the guard screamed.

The bird flew off as the floor opened.