In the heart of an ancient land, nestled between windswept mountains and vast plains, there was a kingdom—once prosperous, once thriving, now known only for the cruelty of its tyrant king: King Drosgar.
Drosgar wasn’t born with a crown; it was taken. A man of incredible ambition and wicked cunning, he had climbed to power through manipulation, deceit, and brute force. His rise was as swift as it was violent, as he slaughtered rivals, betrayed allies, and crushed any who dared to stand in his way.
And once he reached the throne? He did what no other king had done before: He took everything.
The Kingdom of Wealth and Hunger
Drosgar’s reign began as a golden age for the wealthy, the noble, the powerful. The taxes imposed on the common people were suffocating, but for the rich? They were but a mere inconvenience. Drosgar had a policy—one that would make even the most hardened ruler squirm in their boots:
"Take from the poor, give to the rich."
He plundered the farms, seized the livestock, and took everything the people had worked so hard for. The common folk could only watch in horror as their land, their savings, their livelihoods were ripped from their hands.
Drosgar’s palaces gleamed with gold and precious gems, while the poor languished in the streets, starving and broken. His nobles lived in splendor, while his subjects died by the hundreds from famine, disease, and despair.
The Reverse Robin Hood
The legend of King Drosgar spread far and wide. Those who had nothing were driven into poverty—those who already had everything were made richer. It was said that Drosgar’s granaries were filled with grains he had taken from villages, while the very same villagers starved on his doorstep. His treasuries were swollen with gold, but the people were left to beg for even a scrap of bread. He had a name for it:
"The Great Redistribution."
He would rob the poor, take their land, their children, their dignity—and give it all to the rich.
He justified his actions with the same arrogance every tyrant has ever used to rationalize their cruelty:
"The poor are meant to serve. The rich are meant to rule."
The Final Straw: The Blood Moon
The kingdom grew restless. The people were no longer afraid to speak of their suffering. Their hunger turned to anger, and their anger turned to rebellion.
But Drosgar’s tyranny was absolute. He dispatched his soldiers, his mercenaries, his executioners to silence dissent. He crushed every rebellion with brutal force. Families were torn apart, homes set ablaze, innocent lives lost in the name of his god-given rule. But still, the whispers of revolution spread.
On the eve of the Blood Moon, when the skies turned red and the air was thick with the scent of coming doom, a mysterious stranger arrived in the kingdom—an old seer with eyes that shimmered with the knowledge of ages. She wandered into Drosgar’s court, and despite the fearsome reputation of the king, she was allowed to speak.
When she stood before Drosgar, she had no fear. And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying thing of all.
With a voice that echoed like the winds of the dead, she spoke:
"Your greed will be your undoing, King. The heavens will not bless you, for your hands are stained with the blood of the innocent. You will choke on your own riches, and your name will be forgotten as a curse upon this land."
Drosgar laughed. The seer was dismissed, and her words were forgotten—until the next day.
The Curse of King Drosgar
The following morning, the Blood Moon passed, and Drosgar awoke to find that the world around him had changed. His palaces stood intact, but the people—the people had had enough. The farms had burned. The crops had died. The land was poisoned by years of neglect and exploitation.
Drosgar went to his treasury, only to find that it had collapsed under the weight of its own riches. His gold and precious stones lay in ruins, scattered across the floor like debris in a storm. And the nobles who had once adored him? They had abandoned him for fear that the curse of the Blood Moon would catch them, too. The people had taken to the hills, the streets, the villages, and the once-mighty king was left with nothing.
He called for his soldiers, his mercenaries—but they, too, had abandoned him. They joined the rebellion, leaving him to face the consequences of his own greed alone.
As the kingdom spiraled into chaos, Drosgar was forced to flee, no longer a king, but a fugitive.
But no matter where he went, he was followed by his curse. The wealth he had stolen, the lives he had ruined—they haunted him. Every village he passed through closed its doors to him, every kingdom turned its back.
And finally, Drosgar died in a desert, penniless, nameless, and alone. The land had swallowed him whole, just as it had swallowed the lives of the people he had destroyed.
The Legacy of Drosgar
And so it is said that Drosgar's name is never spoken, his legacy erased from the pages of history. The people of his kingdom rebuilt, not on the foundations of gold and silver, but on the blood and sweat of the land. The tyrant’s curse was passed down through the generations as a warning.
For those who would exploit the poor, who would steal from the needy and place the riches of the world into the hands of the few, beware. History does not forget. The gods do not forgive. And the earth—the earth will always claim what it is owed.
A Warning to All
So, dear mortal, what is the lesson here?
Greed is a poison, and tyranny is a cancer. Power is not a gift to be hoarded—it is a responsibility. For when the wealthy few thrive on the suffering of the many, the world will eventually turn on them.
In the end, nothing is more dangerous than a king who believes he is untouchable. And nothing is more final than the price of greed.
May history teach us, and may we never forget.
🖋️✨📜🖤
