King Horris of Melenbach had sired four sons Morris, Borris, Norris and Dorris, in that order. On hearing the allotted name of her youngest son Queen Calphenia took holy orders in the remotest Sanctuarium possible. It was a perfect way out.

          Morris considered perfection in one art was essential to an heir, his being Song. He climbed to the top of the Great Mount Grandpon which was the natural border with the kingdom of Peylanebach and from there planned to sing loudly songs and impress Princess Wendalyn, daughter of King Handsell of Peylanebach.  His rationale not perfect. Nor his balance. On leaning back, taking his first deep breath, fell off. But yodelled on the way down. A reasonably perfect end.

          Borris being oafish thought he could raid Peylanebach, carry off Wendalyn, and force her into marriage, thus assure his right to both kingdoms. On the second day of his incursion an arrow pierced his heart. Many, including his father felt there was a perfection to this demise. Handsell who had nephews similar in temperament to Borris, understood. No more was said on the subject.

          Dorris had a dour outlook on life, albeit with a certain plausible perspective. Not waiting for full manhood, he donned false facial hair of perfect design, practiced a gruff voice to perfection, styled him Burt Bungdover and took employment on the large barge Marge, eventually to rise to the rank of Master Bargesman. And would work hard eventually owning ten barges. None disagreed for him it was a perfect life.

          Norris was a quiet fellow but knowing full well the nature of his brothers Morris and Borris had prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. When The King unexpectedly succumbed to a boating accident during a perfect storm on Lake Frosbee, Norris accepted things.

          Thus, with careful disposition and foresight took his place upon the carved to perfectly carved Oak Throne of Precision.

          Amongst the many issues Norris faced one was what to do with the estates belonging to his parents and brothers, The matter, as was normal for the times was held in Chancery At His Majesty Completion. This was a perfectly reasonable option when a king was very busy or getting used to the job but could not go on too long for no one of any class in the realm liked a king having too much land of his own. He had a kingdom for Frib’s sake. Norris was quite aware of this, particularly as the whole came to about one-eighth of the size of the entire kingdom, a small nation if lumped together. The matter had to be attended to.

          Norris was obliged to refer to The College of Purpose whose members were selected from Bishops of the Church, Philosophers of the Universities, Judges of the Judiciary and High Clerkes of the Administration. Appointees renowned for individual tendencies to pedantry. They gathered at irregular intervals to muse on matters no one else cared about. This change delighted them. They would have to consult books of lore both secular, religious and of pre-sidence, and maps.

          The business would take some time.

          This gave Norris the opportunity for a perfectly respectable courtship for the hand of the Princess Wendalyn. She was not renowned as a beauty but possessed perfect disposition and intelligence. And she rather liked him.  Everything went perfectly and they were married.

          In Peylanebach Duke Urbit, cousin once removed yet not far enough took offense as he felt perfectly entitled to marry her. He raised a smallish rebellion with those nephews Turbit and Shurbit. Norris was given permission by his father to help out his father-in-law. The rebels were apprehended and slaughtered, justly.

          Although Norris had expected The College to take some time, in the three years which had elapsed between the marriage negotiations and ceremonies promptly followed by the rebellion, he had expected some initial findings. There were none pending. His trusted most experienced lord Duke Ferrex was not surprised. Norris ordered the College to assemble.

          When the representatives of each office appeared there seemed to be between the individual disciplines quarrelsomeness, exchanges of ill-tempered looks and undignified attempts to nudge each other aside.

          Three robust bishops were in the lead.
          ‘Your highness,’ intoned one as his colleagues made a credible blocking defence to the three Clerkes challenging as a wedge.
          ‘Good News,’ he continued ‘We have discerned after examination the total square mileage of the land is eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight, and that is a perfect number, being one which is the equal of the sum of its positive divisors,’
          ‘Thus hath the Good Lord God spoken, and indicated the lands should be administered by the Church,’ added another even though he was sorely pressed by a Clerke wielding an atlas.
          ‘The number your Highness ,’ objected the Clerke whose slight built was useful as he skipped aside of a  bishop ‘Is quite deceptive, being reached by NOT taking into account the vertical acreage of the mountains and hills. Some locations have substantive populations whose basis of worship while not heretical does not conform with church doctrines. Thus, would not take well to ecclesiastical rule,’
          ‘There is no precedence for recourse to numbers,’ wheezed an ancient judge ‘Unless there had been due process of affirmation as to their validity,’
          Two other judges nodded. Everyone else ignored them. 
          Norris tutted. This would be a poor impression unto his queen.
          The philosophers had constructed a triangle of tables, the most agile of the trio stood above the assemblage and hailed Norris.
          ‘Your Highness these mathematical objects are defined by their places in such structures, consequently having no intrinsic properties and cannot be seen as supportive of a theological claim on land,’
          One bishop sterner stuff and treading on the toes of his nearest clerkish opponent swung to address the elevated philosopher.
          ‘You ignore the precepts of Mathematical Realism which indicate numbers are not of human minds, and therefore must have a divine origin,’
          The Clerke whose toes had been trampled up looked up sullenly while massaging his foot.
          ‘Yet neither of your groups has come up with a workable system by which the lands may be made integral with adjacent secular parts of the kingdom. Or if it comes to it,’ he cast a glance to the still elevated philosopher ‘Just on what alternative basis the division can take place, particularly as at least one of your party has suggested there are no true divisions,’ he huffed ‘Might as well talk about The Ethereal,’
          ‘Hush!’ cried a bishop in alarm ‘Lest we bring forth evil forces,’   
          ‘We should,’ meandered one of the judges ‘Refer to the Assizes at Jublebester in 726 over the case Duke Quynlabable’s sheep’s grazing rights,’
          There was no enthusiasm for such. The Judges sulked.
          Not fooled by the theatrical stumble of a Clerke into the philosophers’ tables sending their nominee tumbling, Norris glanced to his Captain of his Guard who gladly thumped the floor with the butt of his staff and demand order.
          Norris looked upon the representatives of The College with resignation.
          ‘No agreement has been reached then?’
          Feet shuffled and the pattern of the flooring studied.
          ‘You never previously gathered together?’ he asked.
          His Chancellor of The Palace whispered.
          ‘Each discipline kept to separate chambers and those were noisy enough,’
          ‘Perfect,’ Norris said with derision heavy enough to match his ceremonial armour, and dismissed the lot before he was tempted to emulate one great-grandfather who had been king and wont to solve intractable problems with a favoured axe named Prefect Solution.   

          ‘My husband. My lord. My king. I ask you will all modest civility unto your most noble self. Put that fribbin’ book away before this furry slipper impacts with accuracy upon your nogging,’
          During a courtship a prince or king might have concerns if their seemingly demure, lady of retiring appearance would navigate a queen’s household of older more experienced women. Norris had been quick to realise that beneath the veneer was a wry, combative facet to Wendalyn ‘s character of intelligence and a deft selective irresistible coarse wit.
          ‘But my sweet wife,’ he tried not to sound wheedling ‘The question of the division of those estates is vexing me. Did you know eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight is indeed by a definition of mathematics a perfect number?’
          Un-lady like vocal exclamation of derision.
          ‘And’ she began in recitation manner ‘Perfection can be. That which is complete of required parts. OR. Is so good nothing of any kind could be better. OR that with hath attained it’s poi-puss,’
          ‘Anyway,’ she continued her drawl in a most common accent ‘You’ll not get any sense of them ol’ walnuts,’
          ‘You observed then from secret alcoves?’
          ‘Yes,’ tersely then her voice lowered now regally mocking tones ‘Discourses which are above the minds of women and thus are they forbidden(ed) to listen,’
          An anatomical vulgarity followed.
          Norris pursed his lips in thought, Wendalyn told him to desist, and the subsequent is none of our business.

          Warmly Queen Wendalyn awoke, her lord of course was about business.

          And she her own.

          She met with the wife of one of Norris’ most trusted lords, Duke Ferrex, a journal bound in red leather passed between her and Duchess Ferrex.

          Three days on King Norris bade the entire College gather. Their continued truculence muted.
          ‘Learned sirs, any compromise?’
          There were mumblings which he translated as their pleas to the traditional spirit Varyous Xkusis.
          ‘I see,’ he said with an obvious glance to his Captain of the Guard ‘Therefore we shall take this number of eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight square miles which is some five million, two hundred plus acres and grant one to each person in our realm,’
          There were gasps, he continued.
          ‘Folk will sell unto other folk and combines will be formed, all will be done through the Judiciary and Administration,’ he glowered ‘Who will co-operate to the benefit of the realm,’
          He settled back on the perfectly carved Oak Throne of Precision and waited out the hub-bub.
          ‘Learned Sirs. It will attain Purpose,’

          Despite reluctant murmurs his will would be done, for someone else was now watching from the gallery

                   ‘I am so pleased,’ said Queen Wendalyn

          There were anxious collegiate glances from King to Queen and back again. Then the assembly exited. 

          Swiftly. Very muted whispers to some one word might have been discerned.

          ‘Journal’

          ‘The College was most willing to please,’ Wendalyn said over dinner.
          ‘Your presence was a help my love,’ he raised a wine glass in a toast.
          A knowing pause between them.
          ‘Ten days’ time is the commemoration of the memorial to Morris,’ ventured Norris.
          ‘A poetic sort of accident. By chance I was nearby. It was a lovely yodel. And yet I heard no one mentioned that at his funeral. What a shame,’

          ‘Father did not consider it a suitable memory for a funeral,’

          Another pause. Norris spoke with a sigh.

          ‘We shall have to do something for Borris, lesser of course. Mounted. He was shot straight through the heart. No archer was visible,’

          ‘It could have been worse. He could have been standing and struck lower,’

          ‘Did you know? That was a common opinion held at his funeral,’

          Another pause. Wendalyn spoke.

          ‘Father in a recent letter, asked to me to repeat his thanks with that disruption. He maintains a hunt is a good bonding for a man with his son in law,’

          ‘We benefitted from the most excellent intelligence,’

          ‘Hmmm,’

          Pause.

          ‘Duke Ferrex speaks highly of you my dear. I am glad you are making good associations at court,’

          ‘His wife is nice too,’

          Sixty days later came the most perfect news. The Queen was with child.

          The College of course sent its communal congratulations, then turned its attention to new designs for weathervanes.

          At the Ferrex household, the duchess speaking first

          ‘Such good news. And such a perfectly sweet bright girl too,’

          ‘And he is perfectly suited to the role of king,’

          Each thought of the red journal

          ‘So perfectly complimented,’ she said

          ‘Such is Fate?’ he replied not expecting an answer, only to say ‘And she is noteworthy on the archery course,’

          ‘Also interested in business, she has advised the king to invest in a new barge venture in the Kingdom of Urdle,’

          ‘What a perfectly good idea,’

          Elsewhere Norris closed his own grey leather journal. A family history of many generations. Every so often, the right scion meeting the right girl at the right time.

          Perfect.