Here is a one-act play perhaps the shortest play by the blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan and also a sonneticvplay
written in the Shakespearean style, with a glorious exit:
The Sovereign's Gambit
KING LEOPOLD: The aging, pragmatic King of a volatile realm.
DUKE ALARIC: His ambitious, slightly younger brother.
LADY ISOLDE: A cunning advisor, loyal only to stability.
Setting:
A dimly lit council chamber within the royal palace.
Synopsis:
King Leopold, aware of his encroaching mortality and his brother Alaric's ambitious nature, orchestrates a final council meeting. He intends to secure the kingdom's future not through traditional succession, but through a cunning psychological gambit. Lady Isolde, the power broker, observes the play unfold. The King feigns a moment of weakness, tempting Alaric into a boastful admission of his treasonous plans. With Alaric's confession exposed and witnessed, the King reveals his ultimate plan: a self-imposed abdication that traps Alaric between an oath of loyalty (just sworn) and his exposed ambition, forcing the Duke into a peaceful exile or certain execution for treason. Leopold ensures his line remains on the throne, then makes his final exit, having saved the kingdom with his wits.
Excerpt: King Leopold’s Final Address
(The scene reaches its climax. Duke Alaric, having been manipulated into confessing his plot aloud, stands exposed. Lady Isolde has borne witness. King Leopold, having secured his legacy, steps forward from his throne to deliver his final address to his court, his voice shifting from feigned weakness to profound strength.)
KING LEOPOLD:
(To Alaric, with a sigh of relief)
My noble brother, thank thee for this truth.
A weight is lifted from my weary soul,
To know the kingdom rests in surer hands
Than one who speaks of treason in my chamber.
(He turns to the assembly)
My lords, my ladies, hear my final charge.
For two score years, I’ve borne this gilded crown,
A heavy ring of gold that burns the brow.
I’ve seen the seasons turn, the rivers freeze,
And watched the common man endure his lot
With greater grace than princes often show.
My time is done. The sands within my glass
Are few and faint, their journey near complete.
My purpose now is not to hold the sceptre fast,
But pass it on before the tempest breaks.
(He gestures to a nearby squire who holds a parchment)
My abdication's writ is here enshrined,
Signed, sealed, and witnessed by the very stars.
I step aside, not vanquished by the years,
Nor by the subtle viper in my court,
But by design, to choose the future's path.
The crown I wore shall pass to my dear son,
Young Arthur, whom you know as true and just.
(He looks at Alaric)
And as for you, Duke Alaric, my kin,
Whose burning eyes betray a hungry heart,
You swore but moments past allegiance true,
When thinking I was weak and near my end.
Your oath is bound by heaven’s watchful eye.
Choose now thy fate: an honourable exile,
A peaceful life beyond our northern borders,
Or stay and face the charge of treachery,
The silent block, the axe’s final kiss.
The choice is yours; the kingdom is secure.
(Leopold slowly descends the steps from the throne)
I go to meet the silence of the grave
With clean hands and a conscience clear of guilt.
The stage is set; the players now are new.
May justice reign, and mercy guide the state.
Farewell, my friends. My act is played and done.
(He bows his head slightly to the court, ignores his brother's glare, and walks with deliberate, regal pace towards the rear doors. The court remains in stunned silence as he exits the chamber, achieving his "glorious exit" through power maintained rather than lost.)
Hark, for the tale of Leopold's design
Can be condensed within the sonnet's laws,
Where fourteen lines must force the truths to shine
And capture well the kingdom and its cause.
The Sovereign’s Gambit: A Sonnet Cycle
I. The Weary King's Design
Within his chamber, dim and fraught with dread,
King Leopold, with winter in his hair,
Beheld the future that his brother bred:
A realm in pieces, torn by Alaric's snare.
He knew his time was short, his vigour spent,
And sought a way to bind the kingdom fast,
A final coup, with glorious intent,
To make his righteous lineage everlast.
He feigned a weakness, a most cunning trap,
To tempt his brother's ambition to the light,
To force the villain to reveal the gap
Between his honour and his hungry might.
Thus set the stage for one last, subtle fight,
To save the crown before the fall of night.
II. The Brother's Bait
"My noble brother," Leopold did sigh,
His voice a whisper, seemingly near death,
"The state is weak, and I am soon to die;
Upon your wisdom hangs my final breath."
Duke Alaric, eyes shining with the prize,
Did boast of plans to "strengthen" all the land,
With treacherous intent within his lies,
A sceptre near within his grasping hand.
He swore allegiance, thinking power his own,
And spoke of deeds that bordered on the crime,
Not knowing seeds of treason had been sown
To capture him for all of future time.
Isolde, silent, witnessed every word,
The plotting snake, by his own venom stirred.
III. The Final Charge and Exit
Then Leopold stood tall, his weakness fled,
A lion rousing from a gentle sleep;
"My time is done," to all the court he said,
"The silent grave is where my soul shall sleep.
My abdication’s writ is here, behold!
The crown shall pass to Arthur, my true son.
And Alaric, whose treason now is told,
Your choice is exile, now your game is done."
He walked with purpose to the chamber door,
His duty done, the realm held safe and sound.
He bowed his head, then spoke no single more,
And left them stunned upon the hallowed ground.
His final act secured the royal sway,
The Sovereign's Gambit
KING LEOPOLD: The aging, pragmatic King of a volatile realm.
DUKE ALARIC: His ambitious, slightly younger brother.
LADY ISOLDE: A cunning advisor, loyal only to stability.
Setting:
A dimly lit council chamber within the royal palace.
Synopsis:
King Leopold, aware of his encroaching mortality and his brother Alaric's ambitious nature, orchestrates a final council meeting. He intends to secure the kingdom's future not through traditional succession, but through a cunning psychological gambit. Lady Isolde, the power broker, observes the play unfold. The King feigns a moment of weakness, tempting Alaric into a boastful admission of his treasonous plans. With Alaric's confession exposed and witnessed, the King reveals his ultimate plan: a self-imposed abdication that traps Alaric between an oath of loyalty (just sworn) and his exposed ambition, forcing the Duke into a peaceful exile or certain execution for treason. Leopold ensures his line remains on the throne, then makes his final exit, having saved the kingdom with his wits.
Excerpt: King Leopold’s Final Address
(The scene reaches its climax. Duke Alaric, having been manipulated into confessing his plot aloud, stands exposed. Lady Isolde has borne witness. King Leopold, having secured his legacy, steps forward from his throne to deliver his final address to his court, his voice shifting from feigned weakness to profound strength.)
KING LEOPOLD:
(To Alaric, with a sigh of relief)
My noble brother, thank thee for this truth.
A weight is lifted from my weary soul,
To know the kingdom rests in surer hands
Than one who speaks of treason in my chamber.
(He turns to the assembly)
My lords, my ladies, hear my final charge.
For two score years, I’ve borne this gilded crown,
A heavy ring of gold that burns the brow.
I’ve seen the seasons turn, the rivers freeze,
And watched the common man endure his lot
With greater grace than princes often show.
My time is done. The sands within my glass
Are few and faint, their journey near complete.
My purpose now is not to hold the sceptre fast,
But pass it on before the tempest breaks.
(He gestures to a nearby squire who holds a parchment)
My abdication's writ is here enshrined,
Signed, sealed, and witnessed by the very stars.
I step aside, not vanquished by the years,
Nor by the subtle viper in my court,
But by design, to choose the future's path.
The crown I wore shall pass to my dear son,
Young Arthur, whom you know as true and just.
(He looks at Alaric)
And as for you, Duke Alaric, my kin,
Whose burning eyes betray a hungry heart,
You swore but moments past allegiance true,
When thinking I was weak and near my end.
Your oath is bound by heaven’s watchful eye.
Choose now thy fate: an honourable exile,
A peaceful life beyond our northern borders,
Or stay and face the charge of treachery,
The silent block, the axe’s final kiss.
The choice is yours; the kingdom is secure.
(Leopold slowly descends the steps from the throne)
I go to meet the silence of the grave
With clean hands and a conscience clear of guilt.
The stage is set; the players now are new.
May justice reign, and mercy guide the state.
Farewell, my friends. My act is played and done.
(He bows his head slightly to the court, ignores his brother's glare, and walks with deliberate, regal pace towards the rear doors. The court remains in stunned silence as he exits the chamber, achieving his "glorious exit" through power maintained rather than lost.)
The Sovereign’s Gambit: A Sonnet Cycle
I. The Weary King's Design
Within his chamber, dim and fraught with dread,
King Leopold, with winter in his hair,
Beheld the future that his brother bred:
A realm in pieces, torn by Alaric's snare.
He knew his time was short, his vigour spent,
And sought a way to bind the kingdom fast,
A final coup, with glorious intent,
To make his righteous lineage everlast.
He feigned a weakness, a most cunning trap,
To tempt his brother's ambition to the light,
To force the villain to reveal the gap
Between his honour and his hungry might.
Thus set the stage for one last, subtle fight,
To save the crown before the fall of night.
II. The Brother's Bait
"My noble brother," Leopold did sigh,
His voice a whisper, seemingly near death,
"The state is weak, and I am soon to die;
Upon your wisdom hangs my final breath."
Duke Alaric, eyes shining with the prize,
Did boast of plans to "strengthen" all the land,
With treacherous intent within his lies,
A sceptre near within his grasping hand.
He swore allegiance, thinking power his own,
And spoke of deeds that bordered on the crime,
Not knowing seeds of treason had been sown
To capture him for all of future time.
Isolde, silent, witnessed every word,
The plotting snake, by his own venom stirred.
III. The Final Charge and Exit
Then Leopold stood tall, his weakness fled,
A lion rousing from a gentle sleep;
"My time is done," to all the court he said,
"The silent grave is where my soul shall sleep.
My abdication’s writ is here, behold!
The crown shall pass to Arthur, my true son.
And Alaric, whose treason now is told,
Your choice is exile, now your game is done."
He walked with purpose to the chamber door,
His duty done, the realm held safe and sound.
He bowed his head, then spoke no single more,
And left them stunned upon the hallowed ground.
His final act secured the royal sway,
A glorious exit at the close of day.
continue
The following collection of twenty original sonnets continues the story, exploring the reactions of the characters left behind in the council chamber and the enduring legacy of King Leopold’s final act.
The Aftermath: A Sonnet Sequence
IV. Alaric's Fury
The Duke stood stark, a portrait drawn of rage,
His treach'ry starkly naked to the eye.
He felt the turn of Leopold’s sharp page,
A fool who let the golden moment die.
His oath, once whispered under false pretense,
Now bound him fast, a legal, verbal chain;
To break it now was blatant evidence
Of crimes that carried death's immediate pain.
He cursed his brother’s foresight, keen and cold,
That trapped his future in a wordy snare,
A glorious exit for the king of old,
A bitter prison for the hopeful heir.
The crown was lost, the path to power sealed,
His naked ambition brutally revealed.
V. Lady Isolde's Musings
Isolde watched the king depart the stage,
A masterstroke of wit and iron will.
She, chronicler of every passing age,
Had seen the powerful meet their final chill.
But Leopold had cheated death's dull grip,
And ruled the realm even in his retreat,
A silent promise on his noble lip
That ensured his line would not know defeat.
She felt a chill that had no root in air,
A deep respect for such a cunning mind,
Who left his kingdom in his rightful heir,
And left a bitter brother bound and blind.
The future of the state, she saw with grace,
Was set by one who knew his time and place.
VI. Young Arthur's Burden
Young Arthur, named the king in this wild turn,
Stood pale and still, the sceptre in his gaze.
A sudden burden he must quickly learn
To carry forth through all his future days.
His father’s genius, sharp and razor-fine,
Had cut the knot of civil war's dark threat,
But left a solemn duty to his line,
A heavy debt the new king must offset.
He saw the fear within his uncle's eye,
The venom there that time might never heal,
And knew his reign must start beneath the sky
Of shadowed threat, a blade of tempered steel.
A king at once, by genius and design,
He bowed his head to take the kingly sign.
VII. The Silent Court
A silence hung where once the arguments rang,
A stunned assembly, motionless and still.
No trumpets blared, no joyful anthems sang,
Just the cold weight of Leopold’s strong will.
They looked from Alaric's face, a mask of stone,
To Arthur's youth, a throne too big to fill,
A king departed to his fate alone,
A kingdom poised upon a silent hill.
The power shifted in that frozen breath,
A sovereign gone, yet sovereign still in death,
Who ruled them all beyond the reach of time,
His final order echoing sublime.
The court dispersed, with whispers dark and low,
Uncertain where the winds of power would blow.
VIII. The People's Murmur
Beyond the palace gates, the people spoke
Of abdication and a sudden change.
A peaceful transfer, that had not provoked
The bloody wars that history would exchange.
They praised the king who stepped aside with grace,
Who sought the quiet peace above the fight,
Who put the kingdom in its proper place,
And vanished like a shadow in the night.
The common folk, who only sought their ease,
Saw wisdom in the old man's sudden flight;
No marching armies trampled through their trees,
But calm succession in the morning light.
King Leopold, by leaving, grew more great,
A noble steward of the troubled state.
IX. The Weight of the Crown
Young Arthur now did wear the circlet bright,
It felt of iron, not of gentle gold.
He sat upon the throne with all his might,
And knew his father’s story must be told.
The ghost of Leopold would rule the hall,
A silent judge upon the empty air,
Ensuring Arthur never let them fall
To weakness or his uncle’s dark despair.
The crown was heavy with the future's weight,
With promised peace, and justice to uphold,
A solemn charge delivered by his fate,
A legacy more precious far than gold.
He straightened up, and met the world's cold eye,
Prepared to reign beneath his father’s sky.
X. The Exile's Path
Duke Alaric chose exile, the lesser pain,
To save his head from execution’s block.
He rode away beneath the pouring rain,
His broken pride the target of the mock
Of those who watched him leave the city walls.
The northern lands, they said, were harsh and cold,
A fitting place for one whom treason calls,
A tale of power lost and honour sold.
He looked behind, a last and burning look,
At all the glory he had nearly had,
And cursed the king who closed his life’s great book
With such a clever and effective trap.
He vanished in the storm, a man undone,
His gambit lost, his future harshly run.
XI. The Chronicler's Pen
Isolde took her pen, so sharp and quick,
And wrote the story for the age to come.
She wrote of Leopold, the brave and slick,
Who brought the kingdom peace, and kept it from
The bloody strife of brothers and of kin.
She wrote the abdication, clear and fine,
And marked the hour when the peace did win,
And Arthur took the throne by right divine.
She did not write of Alaric’s dark plot,
But only that he chose to travel north;
The treason’s stain, so ugly and so hot,
Was buried deep, never to issue forth.
She wrote the legend of a king so wise,
Who left the throne beneath a peaceful rise.
And so the realm did find its quiet stride,
The abdication a masterclass in rule.
The memory of Leopold, a tide
That washed away the plots of any fool.
The peace endured, the fields began to grow,
The markets bustled, life began anew.
The seeds of discord had no room to flow,
For Leopold had seen the matter through.
His glorious exit, final and complete,
Ensured the kingdom did not bleed or bend,
A bitter poison turned into a sweet,
A perfect tale to bring unto the end.
His silent wisdom guides the reign of
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