[ WP ] A king sits his princes down to tell them a cautionary tale about misusing their future power .

There once was a simple farmer, he lived in a modest home with his humble family. Each morning he woke up and prayed to the god above, his kingdom of splendor high in the clouds. He prayed that the skies would be free from the furious storms that were his domain. 
 
 Late in the morning he prayed to the god below, his kingdom of iron forges in their blistering heat. He prayed that his tools would be strong while he plowed his fields. 
 
 When he started his hunt he prayed to the god of the woods, his kingdom of animals as glorious as it was wild. He prayed that the forest would be teeming with game for the farmer to hunt and feed his family. 
 
 The farmer did this every day, for many years of his life. He lived a modest life, never having more than he needed, nor less than he could stand. And he was happy in this modesty. 
 
 One fateful day the king happened by the farm, weary from a long travel and eager to get some rest. The farmer met the king and invited him and his guard into his modest home, and though he did n't have much, he shared what he could with these visitors. 
 
 But the King, not used to such modest provisions was insulted by the meager offering his host had given him. He felt that the farmer was holding back and would not bear such insolence. 
 
 The king's guard asked the farmer to take them on a hunt, and the unsuspecting farmer welcomed the company and took them to the forest after his prayer. 
 
 While the farmer was gone, the king took his fury out on his family. He burned the crops and killed his family, he laid waste to the home and took his leave. 
 
 The guards, who had meant to kill the farmer as well, ended up running afoul of a cougar. The farmer had returned to his home, expecting to find a king and his family, yet instead he found ruin and death. 
 
 In his despair the farmer grew desperate for vengeance and wanted nothing more than to make his king pay for the murders he committed. He went to the ruin of his home, and found a long locked chest beneath his bed. Once open he found the old steel sword, a treasure from a war fought in the youth of his life. 
 
 The farmer rode hard to the king's castle, and stood before the the walls and prayed. 
 
 To the god above he prayed that his arms would have the fury of a thousand storms. 
 
 To the god below he prayed that his sword would remain sharp no matter what it cut, and that his arm would have the strength of the strongest smith. 
 
 To the god of the woods he prayed that he would remain hidden from the eyes of his foes like the hare hides from the wolf. 
 
 And as he prayed a storm brewed around him. The rains beat down on the world with the fury of the worst hurricane any seacaptain had seen. The guards of the castle, lazy from a life of gluttony in a peaceful land, retreated inside their hovels to escape from the rain. 
 
 The farmer walked through the gates, hidden by the rain and fueled by his grief. When a guard finally spotted him, he cut him down before he could yell an alarm. 
 
 The farmer made his way deep into the keep, cutting down any guard he happened by. He found the king, a gluttonous mountain under silk and linen. 
 
 The king awoke in time to see the farmer above him, he saw pure fury above him. In one fell swoop the farmer killed the king. And once the hair was thick with death, the farmer dropped his sword and prayed. 
 
 He prayed to the god with no kingdom, his domain of darkness. He prayed that he be released from the world so as he may yet be reunited with his family. And when the guards came upon him and his blood soaked blade, the gods answered his prayer.
