The ringing in King GarGar’s ears had yet to cease when he began to bellow orders. The number of people killed in the explosion of the Grand Grand Canon had yet to be determined. Fortunately Queen Pirouette was waiting in a nearby tent when disaster struck. She was unharmed. King GarGar on the other hand was only ten feet from monsieur canon when some glitch struck and it burst into flames, sending gobs of molten steel in all directions. The smell of gunpowder permeated the air as did the sounds of people moaning in pain and screaming in fear.
“Bring me the owner of the foundry that built monsieur canon!” Shouted GarGar.
“Give me one good reason not to chop your head off, right here and now,” said King GarGar to the owner of the foundry that fabricated monsieur grand grand canon.
“Spare me, Your Majesties!” Cried the foundry owner to King GarGar and Queen Pirouette.
“You’re to give the widows of the men who were killed today one hundred ducats each to compensate them for their loss.” Queen Pirouette spoke with barely concealed rage. “Canons are supposed to kill the enemy, not us.”