It was an ancient time, with wandering minstrels, conteurs and their astonishing tales. Into this serene and picturesque civilization, marred only by constant bloody wars of religion and ambition, came a story, a tale. Where it came from, and where it began, were lost in the graveyards of time. Some people said the tale always was, or had come from the darkest parts of our minds, or was told to God by a hanged man strangling on a rope.
The tale was whispered from realm to realm. At first, it seemed to us heroic, strong. But thinking about it later, we realized its true meaning, the futility of what it told us of life, and we despaired.
A few townsmen left to find a more hopeful tale, but they have not yet returned.
They’ve been gone a long time. <END>