Death comes.

 
Flowers of death blooming as oblivion creeps forth. Every road leading to ash and decay.

Blood soaked soil loosening to make room for the thousands of corpses brought to fill the gaps.

They reach out to their fallen idol moments before they are met with the butt of a rifle. Dragged off and put six feet deep in order of age.

King Armand looking on high from the spike he had forced through him. His kingdom fallen like Sodom and burning as hot as Rome.

Mass executions of the young, public beatings to the weak and elderly. The starving and naked eat their fill from the spoiled bounty of the streets.

Those who hope for an uprising prey to the sky for a hero to put an end to this.A hero just as weak as Armand to bring about another tyrant to take his place.

A hero to put on the crown of rust to become the king of fools.