King Faleron slouched deeper into his throne as Countess Aurelia Seraphina Valerienne di Calvesset the Third made her marriage offer: broad tracts of profitable grazing land and her weight in silver. Generous, he thought drily, given her girth. Idly, he wondered if the weigh-in would include the layers of silk and ermine that swaddled her.

He had endured weeks of this procession: powdered ladies parading through the court, fluttering their eyelashes and declaring their brideprice. The more he delayed in declaring a wife, the more they clogged the palace hallways, gossiping like clucking hens. A miasma of sweet perfume hung in the corridors.

“Shall we stroll in the flower gardens and share our favourite sonnets, my lord?” asked the Countess. He'd walked those paths enough times to wear a groove in the turf.

“Another time,” he snapped.

The final petitioner hailed from some forgettable northern barony and had not even bothered to attend herself. She had sent a marital envoy in her stead - her uncle, transfigured into her likeness. Titters of laughter rippled through the assembled hopeful brides-to-be as the “woman” wobbled forward, his masculine stride ill-suited for his broad hips and delicate heels. Faleron waved a weary hand to let him lay out the dowry.

Three gnoll heads, bristling with arrows, bounced across the floor and rolled to a stop among the neat mounds of treasure.

“They’re infesting your mountain passes,” said the envoy gruffly. “Lucky it was me in the caravan and not my niece. You ought to strengthen your patrols.”

The king stared.

“This is your dowry?” scoffed Countess Aurelia. “Severed heads and insults?”

The envoy shook his head, red tresses flying about his cleavage. “No. We have no money for dowries. I’m only here because my niece wanted a troublesome uncle out of her hair for a season.” He pointed down at the heads. “But I heard there was a bounty on gnolls. I figure, why not make the most of a wasted trip?”

The court gasped.

“You’re saying that I owe you?” the king scoffed, sitting up with a widening smile.

"I take payment in gold or ale,” nodded the envoy. He eyed the hunting trophies that hung over the throne. “I didn’t know you soft southerners knew how to hunt.”

“Allow me to prove you wrong,” the king laughed, leaping to his feet. He swept the envoy towards the stables, as a crowd of horrified suitors swept after him. “The royal preserve is only a week’s ride away. We’ll go at once.”

He really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, the king thought, as the man put an arrow through a stag’s eye socket from a hundred paces. Even after the magic wore off, he knew he'd made his choice.