In The Knave and the Moon, Rachel Gillig argues that corrupt political authority is maintained through the deliberate manipulation of public perception. King Benji, insecure in his power, uses manufactured spectacles and scapegoated enemies as his primary tools of governance. He understands that controlling the kingdom’s narrative is easier and more effective than solving its problems, a philosophy inherited from his grandfather, who believed that “[t]he greater the spectacle, the greater the illusion” (48). Through Benji’s reign, the novel demonstrates how rulers manufacture consent by distracting the populace with grand performances and unifying them through shared enmities, while the unraveling of Benji’s wasteful and destructive reign reveals that power built on illusion is ultimately hollow and unsustainable.

Benji’s primary tool for control is the kingdom-wide tournament, a series of events designed as political theater. The tournament displays the power of the king while simultaneously offering the illusion of equal opportunity for those not born to the aristocracy. Since anyone can enter, common folk see the tournament as a chance to rise in the social hierarchy. However, as Hamelin explains after the grisly death of one such entrant, “Knights are better trained, better fed, better educated. Common nobodies could never win these events, but it gives them hope, dreaming that they might” (95). Benji openly plans for himself and his loyal knights to win each event, using their victories with magical stone objects to create a spectacle of divine right and unassailable power. His strategy is to awe the populace while securing the fealty of the noble families by returning their financial investments with interest, effectively buying their loyalty. This cynical approach fails when Maude, Rory, Sybil, and Bartholomew conspire to ensure that the king’s chosen winners are defeated. The failed tournament is exposed as a farce during a satirical play in the Chiming Wood, where actors mock the tournament’s events and the king’s losses, showing how transparent his attempts at manipulation are. The performance reveals that the tournament isn’t a test of virtue but a self-aggrandizing campaign to solidify a fragile claim to the throne.

To further unify the kingdom under his rule, Benji engages in an even more destructive form of political spectacle: He manufactures a common enemy by scapegoating the sprites. He constructs a false narrative that blames sprites for the destruction of Aisling Cathedral, a lie he cements with another carefully orchestrated spectacle. At his own wedding, he has the great hall decorated with beech boughs to intentionally lure tree sprites and stage an “attack” in front of the nobles of Coulson Faire. He explains his strategy to Sybil, noting that hatred is as powerful as faith and that “[e]veryone hates sprites. It may be the only thing the hamlets have in common” (66). The kingdom’s generations-old prejudice against sprites becomes a propaganda weapon for the would-be tyrant Benji, illustrating the socially and politically destructive nature of prejudice. By directing the kingdom’s fear and anger toward a marginalized and voiceless group, Benji distracts from his own culpability and the true source of Traum’s decay. He continues to use this tactic until the very end, attempting to rally the kingdom for a war against sprites even after he has been deposed.

Ultimately, the novel shows the fragility of power built on performance. Benji’s spectacles fail when confronted with authenticity and unforeseen circumstances. Maude and Rory, competing as champions, disrupt his planned victories and expose his weakness. When the tournament fails to produce the promised financial returns, the nobles quickly abandon him, their loyalty proving as transactional as his own. Benji’s reign collapses not because of a rival army but because his illusions shatter, proving that spectacles can only temporarily obscure the truth of a ruler’s incompetence and moral bankruptcy.