Greetings brave souls. This is a tale of debauchery and degradation. Strap in folks, it’s about to get dark…
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The old king was a benevolent despot. In his youth he led armies from the front rank, proving his courage and strength of arms to the men who fought alongside him and earning their loyalty and devotion. His laws were just and backed by an iron clad determination and an army of spearmen. No one expected that the youngest of the old king’s three sons would ever amount to much but when his older brothers both fell in the same battle he found himself in the role of heir. Two days later the old king died of a broken heart and so the crown passed to the youngest and least prepared of his sons.
My father was a great lord, beloved of his people, respected by friend and enemy alike. Despite his military might he held no aspirations to monarchy. He was a loyal vassal to the throne but the new King was a weak and fearful man who had inherited none of his sire’s magnificence.