There once was a king in a far distant land. He was courageous, honest and wise. As long as this king ruled, peace prevailed. His greatest army was one of merchants, travelling to all neighbouring countries and even the neighbours of the neighbours. They traded gold and precious stones, rich foods and spices, the finest of fabrics and much more. But this peace was not meant to last, for the king had only one child to take over the throne. This child, a boy, was nothing like his father. He did not care for the land nor the people, he did not honour wisdom and never took responsibility for his own actions. The king was in great despair, he found no one who could help his son become a leader. Advisors and wise women were summoned, but none had the answers. No one could put and end to the prince’s greed and selfishness. The king became old and his days were numbered. The last thing he ever said was: “I ask my people to rise up against the throne, for it will be better for my people and my immortal soul if the new king is taken down from the throne, with violence if necessary, than to suffer the ignorance and selfishness of my son and heir!”

The son was furious, he pulled his sword and slew all that heard the kings last words, all the advisors and ministers, servants and guards. Now no one would be able to spread the last words of his father and he would still be king. But the people was filled with the old kings wisdom and understood what they now had to do. And since the new king had killed all of his advisors, ministers and guards, he had no power to defend him self, no one to guard him, just him self and his sword. It did not take long before the new king was the old king. Many generations later the tale of the kings son was almost forgotten and if you forget the past you are bound to repeat it, that is why I have told this story now.