The king with many faces.
2025-3-29
"He did not need the face of a king, for he had the hands of one."
The king with many faces.
In an unknown time , on a land forgotten by time , ruled a king .
monuments built in his image , paintings done for his pleasure.
poems sung about his battles , on distant mountains far and wide.
the king further pushing his glory by having exorbitant ballets and court people into acts.
one faithful night on such an occasion he is met by a fool .
a fool in envious of his face, he says to the king.
for centuries have i roamed this world , i’ve seen countless faces but none like yours
I lust for your image , for your face . I must have it , for I am a Fool god , a mischievous deity
a jester.
he wraps the king in an evil spell and does what he does best, made a fool out of his victim.
the jester stole the king’s face , unbeknownst to the king.
in a trance the king , went to sleep .
He is awoken to voices of his wife unable to recognize her pair in the world.
she shouts, and doubts , the king unable to understand what has happened to his face.
he dodges her to check his face in the mirror.
the king saw nothing where his image once stood , the face he was so adored for , gone.
He could breathe , he could speak , he could see… but he could not be himself.
He has now forgotten his name, he as now forgotten his face …. all that was left was the resemblance to a wooden doll, a mannequin, designed to not intimidate but to imitate.
His screams only matched by his wife’s , she opens the door and runs to the palace guards.
she asks them to exile this creature that has stolen her husband.
the guards follow , they follow her orders and without a chance to clear his doubt , the king is
exiled , he is dog walked through the roads built in his guidance , away from the monuments built in his image. away from the glory his ancestors gave him. to towns considered as outskirts , the last line in the kingdom.
Not one person could recognize , not one person empathized. he is thrown in a puddle of men, a puddle meant for diseased and disabled .
made to hide the ugliness in his perfect kingdom , made to make him forget the absurdist lifestyle he enshrined on his people.
he cried , wept , for days , months , he tried killing himself. but the gates of heaven could not recognize his face to pass judgement on him , so he returned to mortal realm.
years passed, nights got longer since the death of king was declared to the kingdom ,
since finding him was not an option they could take.
the king , in a fit of rage and distraint. He decided he will not let a folly god smite him
he will find the jester and undo the torment, he will return to his formal identity.
the king , dawned a cape , a mask to hide the nothingness he dawned , he drew a new identity.
he roamed the outskirts, begged and heckled for food. He made the pit his home, rarely coming out for trading .
the rumor of king’s death spread to other kingdoms , soon enough the great empire got flooded by war and blood. countless treasures stolen , people slaughtered , the most loyal to the king killed. the ones whom he called loved ones died , the royal bloodline shattered.
the kingdom was left as a shell of itself , empty inside.
king visited the city.
one day he roamed the outskirts, he met a trader
an old lady , the octogenarian that surpassed even his , a wise woman .
she told him that it was a pleasure that they got rid of the old tyrannical king.
who wielded all the power in the world to do anything .
he asked the woman
what did the king do to be called tyrannical
she said
Nothing. He could've helped his people , instead he disbarred ,
he hid his imperfections outside his perfect kingdom , he dawned a magnificent image ,
a face meant to hide the shameless underbelly he hid.
A stench of despair fell on the king. Listening to criticism he knew he could’ve addressed,
he took a leave from the conversation in shame , saving his face.
but then he didn’t have one to hide into. He dared not to look at the weeping faces , for so he could not make one. he could not look at the anger in their eyes , for so he could not reflect it.
despair took his identity ,time took his soul , he was gone .
but the thirst of revenge , the thirst of getting himself back, is what kept him going.
he could not die , neither heaven or hell or anything in between would allow that
he could not live, in somber and solitude.
centuries pass , forgetting the king, forgetting his legacy, his revenge, his identity
the king once a trader became a rich shaman , giving other people happiness he could not possess himself.
he mastered the art of fighting , he disciplined in the literacy of men he once considered lesser
than his own.
He grew wiser.
one day he comes across children, he approaches them trying to befriend them.
he gave them gifts , and toys , the shaman once a king offered them entertainment.
he then asked them for their loyalty, they oblidge. he asks them
do you remember the old king that ruled these lands once
they shook their head but once child recollects .
she recollects her grandmother’s words of a king that ruled once.
the king , ever so slightly asked them to train under him , for he wishes for something.
he takes turn , nurtures them , waits years for them to become wide in various arts.
they become his council , his legion , they recruit more people , they fight , they loved , lost fights, grew wiser to the history of the world .
they pass the message , far and wide till the king is seen as a valid successor.
in decades of war ,
for so his enemies have gone soft by no competition .
their victories defeated them.
the king gets back the throne he so desired.
the laws he passed were ones of wisdom , no monuments , no poems , nothing to remember him but his good deeds , he ruled for centuries , gaining new identities.
ironically the thing that tormented him for the longest , was the one that made him realize the lesson.
he did not need the face of a king,
for he had the hands of one.
Fin.