King Mohg the Third and the Day the Squeaks Fell Silent
The reign of King Mohg the Third began in a time of abundance, optimism, and excellent posture. He was younger than his father, faster on the stairs, and possessed of a mind sharp enough to notice when something was wrong.
What was wrong, it turned out, was silence.
Across the Kingdom of Bleb, homes echoed with it. Playrooms lay still. Courtyards lacked their usual joyful shriek of rubber indignation. Puppies gnawed at sticks with forced enthusiasm. Even the palace halls felt hollow.
The squeaky balls were gone.
No one knew how it had happened. Some blamed supply routes. Others blamed an experimental batch labeled “Extra Squeak (Do Not Overuse).” A small but vocal faction insisted the squeaks had “simply grown tired and left.”
What mattered was this: Bleb faced its first Great Squeaky Ball Shortage.
The court convened.
“Shall we ration?” asked the Treasurer.
“Shall we substitute?” suggested a well-meaning advisor, holding up a sock.
King Mohg the Third said nothing.
Instead, he rose from the throne and padded into the royal vault.
There, behind velvet ropes and ceremonial plaques, lay the Royal Stash—squeaky balls collected over generations. Some were ancient and cracked. Some bore tooth marks of kings long gone. One, historians note, still squeaked in a slightly judgmental tone.
Mohg took them all.
That afternoon, the palace gates opened. Tables were set. The stash was brought out—not for nobles, not for guards, but for the people of Bleb.
One ball per citizen.
Children gasped. Elders wept. A court official fainted when the Judgmental Squeak was handed to a shepherd with no fear in his eyes.
When questioned—quietly, nervously—why he would give away treasures meant only for the crown, King Mohg the Third replied:
“A squeak unheard is a squeak wasted.”
That evening, Bleb rang with sound once more. Not just squeaks, but laughter. Shared games. Borrowed throws. Balls passed back and forth across fences and generations.
And when the shortage finally ended weeks later, the people offered to return the royal stash.
Mohg declined.
“Keep them,” he said. “They sound better out there.”
To this day, the crest of the Third King bears a simple emblem:
A crown, beneath it a ball—
and beneath that, three small lines carved into stone.
Here, here, and here.