A gust of wind rippled the tops of trees and carried voices from the courtyard to the heavens.
"Maybe we should fight it?" A young voice asked hesitantly, showing no sign of conviction. A boy, no older than ten years of age, stood in the center of a circle of men and kicked idly at loose pebbles. He seemed confused as he spoke, and far too inexperienced, but his father had been king and it was now his turn to rule. The tension was palpable, and one of the surrounding councilmen let out a hearty but nervous laugh.
"Fight?" he chuckled breathlessly, "How could we possibly fight the sea?" The rest of the men broke out in pitying laughter as well, wondering why this boy, who wanted to war with nature, had ascended the throne. He was far too young, and his head was teeming with false promises and mangled fantasies.
However, the men ceased their laughter abruptly as the wall of white water they had feared so greatly rushed forward with vigor. It roared like a great beast, and the men scattered. The boy; he simply shut his eyes, tilted his head to the heavens, and waited for his demise.
"It's too late!" someone screamed as the great sea swept up the pebbles, the men, and the boy who was to be king.
