A long time ago in a faraway kingdom sat a troubled king upon a plain throne. As he waited for his supper, he contemplated his city streets. His kingdom was growing and thriving, but the success had caused his roadways to become congested. Many loyal and faithful city-dwelling subjects were all but trapped in their homes, utterly unable to go about their business.

His most trusted adviser, Raven, had warned him long ago that the roads would become crowded, and an advance plan to widen them would be prudent. But a younger, new adviser, Fregory, openly mocked Raven. “Old fool! Any intervention into such a complex system is madness! Why, soon all of the people in the land will go about on flying carpets. Then roads will be clear, and your doomsday predictions and road-widening schemes will be exposed as folly!” And so Raven fell out of favor and Fregory was appointed chief enlightened steward of civic affairs.

When the first traffic jams emerged the king summoned Fregory, who bowed and pled, “do not worry, my liege. These so-called jams are but a ruse perpetrated by Raven. In his bitterness, he has sent an army of beggars to wander the roads aimlessly, in hopes of regaining your favor. But he is a fool! A king as wise as you could never be so deceived.”

The traffic jams became more frequent until the roads were continuously full, and soon Fregory wrote a treatise, proclaiming that roads are meant to be full, otherwise there would be nothing to hold the pavers against the earth and prevent them flying off into the heavens. The treatise was reviewed and endorsed by many scholars with long white beards. So learned were they and so long were their beards that they remained always in the curia, and never had occasion to stroll the city streets. The treatise was given to all the criers, and proclaimed from morning until night to the mass of captive travelers.

Now, the carpet weaver’s guild loved Fregory, for they enjoyed quarters at the royal palace, so critical were they to the kingdom’s future. Before long, they came to Fregory and beseeched him, saying, “oh Fregory, woe is us! We have not had a delivery of wool for a fortnight. Our looms are still, our orders unfilled, and our rug buyers pay not in advance!” So Fregory arranged for shepherds to fill the royal courtyards with their flocks, until there was well enough wool to restart the looms.

To prepare for the dawning of the age of flying carpets, Fregory revealed a royal initiative to mount lamps on pegs planted along the streets, so that all the skies above the kingdom would become peglit. The pegs would exceed tree trunks in height and girth to ensure that they endure forever. The Peglit initiative was hailed as visionary by all the long-bearded fellows, and the people rejoiced. The roads were already so crowded that space could not be spared even for a row of lampposts, so a spacious area on either road-side was added by royal decree to the block of space designated as the king’s roadway.

Meanwhile, Raven remained convinced of the necessity of widening the roads. But relieved of responsibility, and determined to have fun with his remaining years, he took up residency at a spirited villa named Fun, Ltd. Still loyal to his king, and determined to serve the good of the kingdom, he collaborated from time to time with the villa proprietor to pave the surrounding grounds, so that the quarry miners and builders of the kingdom would have some employment and not leave to find work in other kingdoms.

Before long, the weavers’ quarters began to fill with finished rugs, and the rug buyers, unable to freely transport them, instead sent word that payment would be made upon delivery. The rugs were long and heavy, and the only road space that would accommodate their transport was the strip reserved for the great pegs. The weavers were perplexed, but they said to each other, “surely our patron Fregory would favor us to transport our wares. Let us talk with the quarry miners and builders that we might make the Peglit space suitable for commerce.”

When Fregory learned of their plans, he flew into a rage. He rushed to the criers with a new proclamation: “Good people, everywhere, hear ye all: I have consulted crystals, engaging in the subtle art known as perverse inner-peering! It has been revealed to me that Raven is in league with the dark wizard Wihan, and together they are growing rich from our misery! See how they sabotage Peglit for the sake of their own greed! They have cast a spell over the royal weavers, and caused them to conspire with quarry miners and builders to block the lanes ordained for Peglit! See how they conspire to snatch ruin from the jaws of our salvation!”

Hours had passed and the king was still waiting for his supper. Summoning the cook, the king saw that he bore a pitiful expression. “Apologies my liege, but our larders are bare. It has been ages since we had any deliveries of meat from the butcher or cheese from the dairy, or even flour from the miller. We have but water from the royal cistern, and when that runs out, I fear there will be no more. The well is broken, and we are waiting for a delivery of replacement parts from the tinker.” Knowing the cook to be unaccustomed to such duties, the king nonetheless ordered him thus: “of the many sheep grazing the royal gardens, choose eight to slaughter and roast. And take heart. Our predicament is but a temporary condition.”

A great fire was lit in the yard behind the kitchens. From a second story balcony, the king watched the flames grow higher and brighter against the pitch of the night sky. He drew comfort from the chaotic patterns described by the dancing flames. “Well-mannered chaos,” he mused. There was an economy to the physics of fire. Imbalances arose and self-balanced. Perhaps his troubles would work themselves out in the end. The smoke and heat twisted and curled upwards into the Ether, and beyond on the hillside came Dashing down silently the advancing armies of neighboring kingdoms, whose kings had long ago widened their own roads, for their lands had grown prosperous, supporting larger armies and keener monarchs.