The picture sparks a feeling of responsibility, both on the side of the king and his subjects.
He must remain alive and his subjects must protect him on his way through the stormy war.
Written on the kings face were an unholy mixture of fear, torment, uncertainty and bravery. He was the only custodian of the secret keys to a generational treasure cave which neighboring warlords had lusted after for long years
The warlords had gathered round the kingdom overnight and ambushed the palace. In a sudden flight to the fortress for safety he looked beyond the dimensions of his story, only to find me typing his doom.
By one royal look from his noble face, I will have to relinquish the responsibility of spelling doom. It seems safer to leave unfinished what becomes of the King in flight.
