History of Myth Rough Draft The castle was a silhouette in the setting Sun of Truculentus, its golden walls matching the liquid gold of the still-fervent orb. In the castle, beyond the din of cooks, tailors and servants, sat Vetus, king of the Truculentiens, savior of the people. His physical behavior was in contradiction to his power: while during his prime he was a ruthless leader, destroying all who were in his interest, today he sat in a pathetic heap. His ninety-nine year old body couldn't support the weight of the gold he wore, his bald head was covered in liver spots, which were still evident despite being covered in a salty mixture that remotely resembled sweat. He coughed and fell to the floor. In the castle grounds, a handsome and kind man pulled his long blond curls out of his metal helmet. His smile mourned Irene, but his eyes betrayed Poseidon. Standing at six feet two inches, his bulky muscles trembled as he shakily read the writing scribbled on the scroll. Peace negotiations with the city-state Sapientia had put Old King Vetus' steely heart to the test. As his son, he was supposed to take over the entire kingdom. He mounted his horse and trotted towards the castle. As he thought about all the people he was now responsible for and what they represented, war and violence, it occurred to him how sick it all was, the blood, the heartlessness, the suffering. Now he was the ultimate symbol of it all. Suddenly, he gritted his teeth and his brow furrowed as King Exspes struggled to control his anger. His feet pressed against the horse and the rural landscape blurred into a sea of ​​blue and green. People, horses, carts, buildings were just spots on a canvas. Exspes's knuckles drummed feverishly and pe...... in the center of the paper......s. Everything was a red stain, the red of the enemy's uniforms and the red of his men's blood. He saw a blurry image and fired, then another and another. Then there was a gasp. Everyone around him stopped and looked at what was happening. His wife was covered in blood and he had shot her. He gave a cry, and then the Great Highness Exspes, king of the Truculentien, savior of the people, fell to his knees. Of course Truculentus, the great war city, eventually defeated Sapientia and the kings would meet in the now defenseless castle. Poor Exspes was inconsolable and had to be dragged to the ceremony. When he took his enemy's sword, Exspes hugged him, on the verge of collapsing. On his way back to the ship, he kissed the blood-soaked earth on which he had unknowingly killed his wife. As he walked away sobbing, the blood came out of the earth and became the pomegranate tree.