Grand Schemes and Questionable Snacks

The academy transformed the day after the ball. Ravi, the once eccentric prodigy, was now seen as a shadowy figure of immense influence. The whispers followed him: 'Did you see him with the Queen?', 'They say the Cult trembles at his name!', 'I heard he sleeps in a coffin woven from moonlight!' The rumors grew more ridiculous with each passing day, but that was precisely what he wanted, wasn't it?His new position as the Royal Grand Advisor was, officially, a complete disaster. Ravi spent meetings doodling intricate battle plans for imaginary armies, nodding sagely at moments he believed were important, and surreptitiously inspecting the quality of the provided snacks.Yet, the strangest thing was, things were actually… improving? The increased vigilance against this supposed 'cult' led to a crackdown on actual criminal activity. Petty disputes among the nobility were being resolved with alarming efficiency, the reason being that everyone was far too intimidated by Ravi to raise a fuss. The kingdom was somehow running smoother, all because of a pajama-clad teenager who was utterly winging it.Perhaps his true strength wasn't in magic or combat but in sheer, unadulterated chaos. With a manic grin, he decided to test that theory."Lady Priscilla," Ravi addressed one of the Queen's most trusted advisors during an excruciatingly dull economics meeting, "Might I suggest... a royal jelly-wrestling tournament for the betterment of public morale?" He batted his eyelashes innocently.Priscilla blinks, then blinks again. Around the table, the other advisors shifted, a confused horror dawning on their faces."A most unusual suggestion, Lord Absolute," Priscilla managed to reply, composure wavering."Unusual leads to extraordinary!" He insisted. "Think of it—knights, squires, perhaps even the occasional merchant—all grappling amidst glistening, delightfully flavored gelatin! The symbolism! The spectacle!"He was certain that was the moment it snapped. Priscilla openly paled, other advisors began whispering frantically, and the King's representative rubbed his temples in despair. His purpose was clear. Eternal Moon needed a new motto: 'Embrace the Absurd'.That night, as he sprawled amidst his piles of forbidden knowledge in the restricted library, the answer came—not about the cult, but about his 'organization'. The books he'd dismissed as nonsense now seemed to shimmer with possibility. Ancient rites, whispers of beings from other dimensions, relics with questionable origins—a thrilling idea started to form.The next morning, Ravi burst into a meeting of the Royal Guard, the kingdom's most elite fighters, with a wild gleam in his eye. "My valiant warriors!" he began, slamming a dubious-looking scroll onto the table, "an urgent mission for Eternal Moon!"The guards, seasoned and stern, looked baffled. Ravi unrolled the scroll to reveal a crudely drawn stick figure being chased by an even cruder tentacle monster."We face a threat from the Abyssal Depths!" He declared with unwavering confidence in his own utter nonsense. The guards exchanged worried glances."Your task is to procure the legendary sword of Squishy Doom! Only then can we banish this...abomination!"The absurdity of it all was intoxicating. They were buying it! These battle-hardened soldiers seemed ready to march off based on his crayon illustrations and gibberish.But then, something unexpected happened. Captain Darius, the grizzled leader of the Guard, cleared his throat. "Lord Absolute, while the threat seems daunting, where might we locate this, ah, sword?"Ravi paused. This, he hadn't considered. "That," he announced, channeling his inner mysterious guru, "is for you to discover."Two weeks later, Ravi was summoned by a sheepish Captain Darius and presented with a... plunger. A particularly rusty and slime-covered plunger fished from the Royal Sewer System. Apparently, the legend of the 'Sword of Squishy Doom' was a garbled tale among the less literate guards.Ravi, ever the opportunist, took the plunger and ran with it."Behold!" He announced this to a nervously assembled court. "The Sacred Relic! With it, none shall stand against the Eternal Moon!"No one questioned it.That day, as Ravi twirled his plunger-relic amidst a flurry of awestruck gasps, he realized something profound: power had nothing to do with strength or magic. It lay in the stories people believed. And he, Ravi Sharma, was becoming a master storyteller. Maybe he wasn't a god, but perhaps something even better.