Note: Part 1 of The Silver Spoon in the Stoned can be found here.

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Being a Second Act of a Glorious Tale

Upon descending from the rubble of the wounded city, a King most popular and beloved of his people, the leader set upon a path of engagement with his enemies (if even unto violence a neighbor to the villains would bear the wrath) and could not be persuaded to avoid the roughly hewn ordnance of battle by routes of diplomatic navigations. With fingers in his ears and his thumbs made into propellers, he buzzed his way down the rocky escarpment, and with his lips did mock the raspberry.

And so in the Elder Days it came to pass that a son was born unto a wealthy future King, who desired that his beloved progeny be kept safe from the ravages of the world. With food aplenty and lodging fair, the young lad spent his idyllic days making merry mischief, and many an amphibious toadling saw his wrath. Thereafter, the chump change of the once and future King's youth was spent in idle pleasures prevalent of that time, pleasures of the nose and of the liver, and he didst merry-make in the darker dens and taverns that dotted the territories claimed by the King.

The years did manifest their mournful march, but darker tidings ill-informed the boy's delightful days of aimless wonder. As war shook its frightful fist and laid low the men of the land, the rightful Prince was made to vanish for a time, safe from the enemies of the Kingdom, a happy lad at play with potions robust and powders Peruvian and most pure. The days were as of night, dark and obscure, and none dare recall them.