Throwing dice in Thrice

Throwing the Dice in Thrice by J.B. Pravda

King Sardonicus of the three closely affiliated lands known as Thrice
was in an especially haughty frame of mind during this, the Third
tri-ennial competition of riddles and otherwise really obtuse problems
and puzzles for which he had considered himself famous; his most
confounding challenge, unsolved since the very first installment was
the Cordian Knot. Tired of the inevitable cocksure smartasses who
would, exploiting a loophole, now closed, in the rules, simply cut it
with their swords [thereby emulating the legend of the Gordian knot, a
much less prestigious contest, now defunct due to overexposure by
arrogant politicians' use of analogy to it who were, by and large also
defunct, having been stabbed by frustrated auditors of that, by then,
far more than 'twice-told tale', who risked imprisonment, death or,
really ironically, on occasion, a reactionary sweep into political
office themselves] the King had specified no fucking sharp metal
instruments of any kind; with few takers, in fact only one; this
diminutive fellow wearing strange ovaline coverings for his eyes, with
equally strange attire whose blouse bulged with a cluster of stick-like
objects, reached into his blouse and, with a blinding flash of light,
cut the knot instantly! Furious but nonetheless defeated, the King knew
his days of rule were numbered, realizing instantly that, in his
old-style arrogance he had failed to both ban time-travelers from the
future and their technologies! Knowing that he could never either kill
(having discouraged sharp object production, with its consequent
swelling of the ranks of the unemployed) or compete with the
job-creation and/or intimidation qualities of this miraculous device,
the King ordered himself stoned to death, first with hemp, then sizable
rocks.