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

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

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.

(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!