We must, as part of Our duty, inform all of Our subjects of the death of Our Imperial Game Warden. His post will be difficult to fill but We will appoint another in due course.

We knew he was much loved the poachers in Our forests and streams. We know that often miscreants would be overlooked as such was the only occupation for which they was qualified. And Our honor accepted these losses as inevitable. We did on occasion question Our Imperial Game Warden about his own well-stocked larder. We once visited his office as he was butchering what seemed to be a magnificent stag from Our forests but he convinced Us that it was “a mangy old cow that was hit by a wagon hauling rock” to a rock concert. When We questioned the magnificent set of antler he explained that the were “sheds” that the old cow got stuck on her head somehow. When we looked skeptical he gave Us a flagon of excellent mead and while We were chatting about the state of Our lands, coyotes silently took away the carcass of the mangy old cow.

He shall be missed. And We now institute 90 das of mourning, a 21 gun salute to be fired at dawn and sunset each day during the period of mourning (using blank, not live ammunition), the Empire's flags to be flown at one-quarter staff, full breakfasts for all prisoners during te days of mourning, a tomb to be carved from a granite boulder of the greatest height and width, mourning parades ever day during the sacred period, all work to cease whilst we mourn together, a Te Deum to be sung in the cathedral daily in perpetuity, and all children to be well mannered and helpful forever.

These are Our wishes, and so will be carried out exactly by Our subjects.

Emperor Rapparee, Imperious Rex.            Sealed With Our Tears