The castle burned, it had been burning all night and day, the air thick with black smoke. King Budu stood at the steps of his palace, his sword flashing, alone and surrounded, he made his way to the top of the castle. His guards had either fled or joined the revolt. His people had revolted. They came with stones, with sticks, and with their bare hands when all else failed, with the rage of years buried under fear. Yet even then, the king’s voice roared above their cries, harsh, cruel and still trying to sound tyrannous. “Ungrateful dogs!” he roared, swinging his blade through the air. “I gave you law, order, protection and this is how you repay me!”. He was cornered, he looked down from atop the castle, one more Step back and he'll fall to his death, and just then while looking at the faces of his subjects, memory came to him.
He remembered the day he first drew that sword, bright and shiny, given to him on his ascension. The elders had knelt before him, calling him a god on Earth. They said he would bring justice and unity. And for a time, he did. Until the power started getting to his head, they say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Soon, every smile became a threat, every voice a plot. He taxed them, chained them, silenced them and tortured them. He built golden statues while children starved at their feet. He burned villages to remind them who ruled. Now the people he ruled had no more fear left to give, they felt they had nothing left to lose Back to the present day and time, the subjects advanced, faces painted with anger and tears, the king hesitated. His arm trembled, what was this feeling, it was fear! The sword grew heavier than it ever had been. He took one last swing, a desperate, empty gesture. The blade clanged and it fell from his hand, he couldnt do it he couldnt take that Step back to fall to his death. "Coward!!", he screamed and then came the hands, rough, furious, human. They dragged him down from the steps he had ruled from, and the mob swallowed him whole. His crown fell, rolling into the dirt, dented and forgotten. By dawn, the people began to sweep the square. No one spoke his name and the earth, that had soaked so much tears and bloodfinally, exhaled.