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Every year in December, we evaluate the season, decide who deserves praise and who deserves criticism, and then we open the door to new opportunities.
The kingdom's only newspaper, Vassal Pius, held an unusually eclectic awards ceremony last December, transforming the usual solemnity of end-of-year honors into a parade of obscure accolades and theatrical disputes.
Jacques Caribou, the veteran horse racing advisor who won the championship title in 1197, opened the event with a flamboyant presentation of the Charlemagne Award. The award, traditionally reserved for “the man who savors his victory atop the podium with champagne,” was presented to Sir Lewis, who accepted the honor with grace but admitted his disappointment at having been overshadowed by Nico three times before. The ceremony quickly drifted into a series of digressions. The Count of Moncet, who described the month as “a time of sad epilogues and rare dithyrambs,” mocked the winner's performance, calling him “grumpy” and following up with the presentation of the “Most Boring Peasant” award.
The former rector of Luthus, Roland Boulet, who recently moved to Woking and was knighted as Roland de Boullier, arrived early and was tasked with collecting the “Prize for Dishonor.” His request for clarification on his new title was met with a sharp rebuke from Caribou, who attributed the confusion to “your ridiculousness.” .”
Unanimously, the Young Wolf Award was presented to Max the Minimus, although the young winner's father had reportedly forbidden him from attending. The Transparent Award, intended to recognize an “unrecognized existence,” was presented to a mysterious Swede known only as Ericsson. Despite Ericsson's insistence that he was present, the count dismissed him and moved on to the Bourricot Prize, an ironic tribute to a “supreme idol” that was ultimately awarded to Pastor le Fol, who, according to the count, had damaged his carriage on his way to the ceremony.
In the final segment, Olaf Kimi received the Polochon prize, which pays tribute to “the weak man who falls asleep every Sunday.” Kimi expressed his “great honor” and “overflowing emotion” at receiving the award, which led to a brief and disconcerting exchange between Caribou and the count about decorum and “the virgin in the old prostitute.”
Throughout the evening, attendees ranging from medieval scholars to self-proclaimed knights oscillated between sincere gratitude and petty grievances, leaving observers wondering whether these awards were a genuine celebration of accomplishments or a theatrical farce staged by the most virulent figures of Vassal Pius.
