Once upon a time there was a princess that sat in her lofty throne and watched all of her courtiers mill about and lavish praise on each and every one of her musings. They often waited patiently wanting nothing more than to hear what came to her mind next.
Courtiers from far and wide came calling. Each was greeted warmly by the princess; other courtiers welcomed each new member with warm wishes and happiness. The castle was a twitter with life, light, and happiness. Daily they heard from the princess; for she liked to see how her subjects were fairing and were all things right in her castle.
The courtiers suffered a loss and tears were shed. Sadness and mourning where thick in the air. It had been quiet in the castle as that happens in the dark of the longest of winter nights. A new courtier came a calling. Unbeknownst to the others; this one would be special and dear.
The strangest thing happened, now this is the part I heard was true, but you never know with rumors and gossip.
So it seems the princess grew bored; as they often do. The courtiers vied for attention and a few noticed that others where being pushed to the side. As winter drags on, the courtiers were lost; their princess was no longer there. She left them to gather among themselves. They waited for word of her latest musing and it was sent through a new courtier. Rumblings were heard throughout the castle; “Who is this? Why is she speaking on behalf of the princess?”.
The princess said nothing and sent the courtier. The subjects began to get restless and sad; they were left with no reasons why.
Now this is where the action happens; discontent and neglect go hand in hand. Didn’t you know that when courtiers are left on their own with nothing but a talking head, revolt is but a step ahead.
Listen, did you hear it? A shot in the dark. I cover my heart; pulling my hand away I see nothing. On left, my dear has been bleeding and injured for nothing. I pull her out and take those I can and seek shelter. The lights flash again and all is silent, we are standing with nothing left. The princess has turned a deaf ear to her courtiers pain while the new pushes the old away.
As we heal and regroup the talking head has been granted a gift we didn’t know was there. No seer would have seen this, no tellers of fortune would have known that the knife was that sharp.
Alas my child, the story continues; this is but a place to hold you until the rest unfolds.