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The Legend tells of a cold, harsh King
Who plagued his land with the might of his things
These things, as they call them
An army they be
Assembled under the King
And his lovely Arabian Queen
The people there among the land

Struggled to survive
The crops stripped from the ground
With their necks prodded with knives
You see, the King, he spoke
Loud and clear, and when he did
All the peasants shivered in fear
For they had not the might
Nor the strength
To face the cruel King
And the rest had all but left them, even their faith
But one day there came
A solem warrior, unknown to all
But with him a sword
With which he could not fall
And this Knight in his time of courage
Struck down the cruel King
And claimed his throne
Casting aside his armor and sword, 
The New King sat down
And planned how to use
His brand new crown
A King must be honest and loyal
This Knight was both of those, yet
Something inside the Knight, a brilliant spark foiled
It was as though his first wish as a King
Would be to pillage and conquer
Just as the last had done
And with that notion upon his head
The New King set out to spread
His influence across the world
But when he returned
Everything unfurled
This Knight was no longer a hero
He was but a man
Who had seen the greed he slew
And embraced it in his hand
He turned into the King
He had slayed many years before
And in time a great rift he tore
For not a fortnight later
When a solemn knock on the door
Yet another Knight was there
A Protector of the Poor
Wearing the same armor and brandishing the same sword
He cut down the old Knight and restarted the lore.