The Next Day. The Kingdom of Got.
"Seal the borders of Got. No one comes in or go out. Not until I say the words."
Aliefur, the King of Got ordered as he settled in his throne. He picked the heap of beards clouding his fine chin thoughtfully. His conspicuous Adam apple racing his oesophagus.
One of the chiefs seated at the front of his throne stood up. He bowed slowly,
"We are really glad that you are Hale and hearty on your return, his majesty. But of all things, we know what a crazy bastard Wealene is. Having the borders closed would do nothing but cause the death of Manias. And we all know how supportive and helpful he had been to this throne and us all. Even though his youthful exuberance take hold of him sometimes."
Another chief took his turn,
"We'll be telling a fat lie if we say that we knew or know what you felt under the thoughtless folly of the uncouth Wealene. But should we because our fingers hurt badly cut the whole arm off? Of
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