Age of Rebirth
I used to be someone.
I used to be someone everyone knew, everyone loved.
I was loved by my people, respected by my allies, and feared by my enemies.
But no more.
Now I am hated by my people, distrusted by my former allies, and mocked by my enemies.
I had a life, a home, a country.
But now… All I have is a hovel, a cooking pot, and a broken crown.
The former king looked across the clearing to the broken-down shack that was his new residence. Two long years. He sighed, poking half-heartedly at the vegetable broth that was cooking, hanging over an open fire in a battered pot.
I failed my people, and lost everything for it.
“A home fitting for a king.” He muttered bitterly, full of shame for his actions.
How could I not have seen it?
How did I not see what I was becoming?
It should have been obvious. Someone should have said something.
But if they had said something, I would surely have killed them.
But maybe not. Maybe being made aware of my failings would have turned me back to the path of good.
But was the personal risk too great? Can I honestly say that I would have stepped in if our positions had been reversed? The king sighed again, his eyes wondering to the tarnished and broken crown resting atop the rock across the fire from him.
I cannot know what I would have done in that position. I cannot know, because I was raised a king, and those around me were not. Different styles of thinking, different people.
I used to be someone, but now I am nothing. Nothing but the king who turned on his own people.