The Emperor's Moment of Truth

The Immortal Emperor's 49th birthday parade surpassed everyone's expectations in its length, opulence and sheer magnificence. Never had the horses pranced more gracefully, the musicians played more divinely, or the acrobats tumbled more spectacularly. This mobile feast for the senses, almost a league long, snaked its way through the thronged streets of the capital, astounding everyone who had the good fortune to see it. 
The centerpiece of all this magnificence was the emperor himself, lounging on a revolving platform on wheels so that everyone could admire his new finery from every angle. The people oohed and aahed and cheered with unprecedented enthusiasm. Everything was going perfectly until a chill autumnal wind sprang up. The emperor shivered. 
 He reached for the invisible fur cloak beside him and pulled it around himself. Nothing changed. He was cold and naked.  
He tried not to look down at his body, but each gust of wind made him more aware of the unspeakable horror that could not be denied. He had been duped by a pair of con artists from the Kingdom of Haute Couture, who had departed for parts unknown as soon as they received their final payment.
The emperor had tried very hard to see the fabrics as the tailors worked. At times, he had almost succeeded. He was convinced that it was only a matter of time until his innate superiority would allow him to view what only the wisest and most discerning could see -- the ultimate in splendid attire, bearing witness to his divine attributes and inspiring unqualified admiration.
He closed his eyes, making a final attempt to summon mental clarity. When he opened them, his pot belly and scrawny legs were unchanged, bare and unadorned.
The wind was merciless. It had never learned the art of flattery.
Why didn't anyone say something? The Emperor asked himself.  Am I surrounded by fools?
His second wife had presumed to disagree with him from time to time. He had found that foible amusing until the night she went too far and told him that his supremacy was an illusion. "The power rests with those who believe that you are a god. If anyone ever sees the truth and speaks it without fear or favour, you will be a man like any other."
He had her gagged immediately and executed for high treason at sunrise, along with everyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot of her perfidious utterance. He had not been troubled by opposition since.
Perhaps I was too hasty. She would have told me what she saw. 
An urchin with tangled brown hair broke free from the crowd and ran towards the emperor. He was quickly grabbed and restrained by one of the imperial guards. A woman – surely the child’s mother, by the desperate panic in her face – darted forward to reclaim him. She, too, was instantly captured.
The emperor raised his hand. The parade halted. The music and cheering faded into silence.
“Let the child approach,” the emperor commanded. Could this be a messenger from the Greater Universe, the answer to his dilemma?
The guard loosened his grip. The boy approached the platform, eyes bright with curiosity. It was no trivial thing to see a god up close.
The child put his hands on the emperor’s platform and craned his neck. His voice rang out with the sweet clarity of innocence. “Eternal Magnificence, I have a question.”
Eternal Magnificence. That had a fine ring to it. The Emperor made a mental note to have it added to the list of his official titles. 
He leaned towards his young subject. “Speak, boy. What is it you wish to know?”
“Eternal Magnificence, where are your clothes?”
The shocked silence was broken by a chuckle, a giggle, a howl of mirth. Seconds later, the entire crowd was laughing uncontrollably. Some of the musicians dropped their instruments. A few of the acrobats leaped and somersaulted while others rolled on the ground, overcome by merriment. Thanks to their years of rigorous training, the members of the Imperial Guard maintained their composure, but their cheeks twitched from the effort.
The Emperor pulled himself to his full height and gazed over the heads of the crowd, imagining the new taxes and improved security measures he would impose. The distraught mother broke free and darted to her child, clapping her hands over his mouth and drawing him close, her eyes huge with terror. She prostrated herself on the pavement, pulling her son down beside her.
The laughter ceased, as all laughter must sooner or later. The fate of the kingdom hung suspended in a moment of breathless contemplative silence.
The captain of the guard cleared his throat. "What would you have me do, my Lord?"
"Hand me your cloak. Then kill the child and his mother.”