The time has passed, young king grew old, his beard got long and shadow casted on his eyes.
Wrath slowly ate away the king and the grip of the sword was long gone already.
Still, he didn't let the gripless sword off his hand until his last day.
The sword wielded by bloody hand took away lives of many, both evil and innocent.
What made that obsession, whether it was fear or madness, even the king himself would never know.
In the day the king died on his lonely throne, the sword left him.
