Tale #118: The Fortieth Dream Of The Waiting Prince, In His Time Of Seclusion, In The High Palace Of Eternal Solitude, Above The Clouds Of The Empire’s Reality, Beneath The Moons Of The Empire’s Imagination

This morning, my Lord told me of his dream of the night before. And he said to me, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dream. And in this dream, I dreamt of nothing at all.”

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Notes:

1. Written in June 2020

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Tale #117: The Eighth Dream Of The Waiting Prince, In His Time Of Seclusion, In The High Palace Of Eternal Solitude, Above The Clouds Of The Empire’s Reality, Beneath The Moons Of The Empire’s Imagination

Now this morning my Lord recounted to me his dream of the night before, his seventh such that I have recorded upon the skin of this scroll, and his eighth in total during this period of his solitude. And he said to me, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as confounding as the mysteries of the Forgotten Scholars, which so perplex those of us wise enough to study their writings. For in this dream I had before me my advisors, and the first of them said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the second of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the third of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the fourth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the fifth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the sixth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the seventh of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the eighth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the ninth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the tenth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the eleventh of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the twelfth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.” And then I moved down the line, and the thirteenth of my advisors said to me, “You can trust me, my Lord, for unlike these others, I shall not lie to you.”

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Notes:

1. Written in June 2020

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Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon. Subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real. Thank you.

Tale #116: The Third Dream Of The Waiting Prince, In His Time Of Seclusion, In The High Palace Of Eternal Solitude, Above The Clouds Of The Empire’s Reality, Beneath The Moons Of The Empire’s Imagination

Now this morning my Lord spoke of his most recent dream, which was the third of his solitude, the second of his meditation, and the first since he had drunk of the milk of dreams, which flows so readily in the Gardens Of The Many Moons, for only there is it that the Flowers Of The Mind shall bloom. And he said to me, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as calm as the waters of the Lake Of Thought, in which yesterday I bathed. For I dreamt I was in the bed of my Palace, and sleeping soundly. And as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as calm as the waters of the Lake Of Thought, in which yesterday I bathed. For I dreamt I was in the bed of my School House, and sleeping soundly. And as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as calm as the waters of the Lake Of Thought, in which yesterday I bathed. For I dreamt I was in the cot of my Nursery, and sleeping soundly. And as I slept, I dreamt. And this dream was as calm as the waters of the Lake Of Thought, in which yesterday I bathed. For I dreamt I was in the womb of my Mother, and sleeping soundly. And though I slept, I dreamt not at all. For I had then all I wanted, and no thought of anything more.”

_________

Notes:

1. Written in June, 2020

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon. Subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real. Thank you.

Tale #115: A Short History Of A Minor Kingdom

For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this. For many years a King and Queen ruled benevolently together over a small yet beautiful kingdom. One day, the Queen gave birth to a young prince, and the King was so happy he began to cry, knowing that his legacy was secured..

That very day, the kingdom was besieged by an army of such great power and ferocity that the King and his people could do nothing to stop them. While the King waited in his castle to meet his usurper, the Queen and the young prince escaped across the sea. As they sailed away into the black of night, behind them the sky was bright as day as the cities, farms and forests of their homeland burned. Only the King’s occupied castle remained unburnt, standing out like a shadow against the blood red flames.

The Queen knew her King had fallen, and she wept until morning, and then she wept no more. In exile, she brought her son up with stories of their homeland, of the beauty of the forests and the lakes, of the bravery and heroism of his father, of the wonderful kindness and generosity of the people.

He grew up into a beautiful young man, so proud and strong, so tall, so tender. He resembled his father the King in every aspect, including his belief in honour and his yearning for justice.

Such was his charm and the righteousness of his cause, that soon he rallied a huge army to his side. And so it was that on his 21st birthday they marched upon the kingdom of his birth to help him reclaim the throne that was his by right. Such was the implacable power and righteous fury of the Prince and his men that the occupying army, decadent and weak-willed as they were, could do nothing to stop them.

While the cities, farms and forests of the Kingdom burned, the Prince took his place on his father’s throne, had his father’s crown placed upon his head, held his father’s sceptre in his hand.

The King in his crown looked down at the vanquished King in chains before him and said down to him, From the ashes of your stolen Kingdom shall rise the old lands of my father, and his father, and all their fathers before them. And your headless corpse shall sink into the depths of the marsh, your grave unmarked, your name forgotten, the ashes of your stolen kingdom blown out to sea and scattered beyond remembrance, unrecorded in the histories of these lands.

But before I cut the head from your shoulders, I wish to hear the story of your life, so I can learn what petty impulses drove you to conquer this land and murder my father.

Well, said the King in chains. It went like this…

__________

Notes:

1. Written in January 2020

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Tale #114: The King In Red, The Queen In Yellow, The People Clad In Rags

It was ever thus
and therefore
shall ever be

__________

Notes:

1. Written on April 1st, 2019

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon. Subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real. Thank you.