The Tale of the Prince and the Flower

	Have I ever told you the story of the prince who had scoured the land to save his mother? If no, then open your ears. It is time for me to tell a story.

	The Prince, he was always a good child, especially so when the kingdom he hails from happened to be embroiled in constant warfare with the neighboring kingdom. The people there thought they were like the Almighty, if not Him in his prime. The Prince wanted nothing more than to be happy, spread his own happiness, and bring joy to his subjects. In fact, he wanted nothing more to do in his life than to make his friends, family, subjects, and everyone around to be happy.

	One day, when the prince was sneaking and sequestering himself away from the family on a private matter, a group of brigands from the neighboring kingdom swooped through our domain, and brought with them a dreadful plague. People became sick, crops shriveled up and wilted, and livestock became nothing more than a walking, moaning, shriveled up sack of skin and bones. Of course, the people did not realize that things weren't going to become any better anytime soon. Even our beautiful queen had contracted an illness from the strain of it all.

	As such, when our prince learned what had happened to his mother, he secluded himself into the bowels of the Royal Library to find some sort of remedy that could help his mother's plight. Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months soon turned to years and years. The prince had become obsessed with finding a cure for his mother's ills, and people had often found him hunched over a book on a desk somewhere, exhausted from too many nights of poring over the ancient tomes that were found within that place.

	That is, until the prince found what it was that he was looking for.

	In a particularly lengthy book containing a large history of the world and most of the neighboring kingdoms, he found the tales of messiahs from these places that imbibed a sort of "special" herb that only grows near places filled with strife and monstrous beings. The herb itself imbibed the blood of the fallen, from monster and man alike. If he read those words correctly, the herb would act as a vital ingredient to the legendary "Panacea", an elixir that could cure any sort of illness or infirmament that haunted the form of someone. Under his will, he swore to find such a plant and use it to cure his mother.

	He had told his mother of such a plan, and was told that it would be "absolutely terrible for a prince to have to do his own dirty work", and was told to "stop chasing all sorts of tall tales" before being escorted to his room. But, being the sort of person he was , he could not simply stand by and watch his family and subjects wither away to nothing. So, under the cover of night, he donned his cloak, packed a few provisions, and made his way out towards the countryside, near where the forces of his kingdom were fighting valiantly for the people against the people of the kingdom that thought of themselves as the Almighty.

	Quickly, time had gotten away from him, and when he found he had gotten to the site of the battle, he was sure that he would not be able to make it back by the morning. Nevertheless, he made his way through the night, through the corpses of man, monster, and zealot, and found what he was looking for: a single sprig of that herb he needed.

	He stuffed that flower into his pocket, stalk and all, and quickly started to make his way back towards his homestead. By the time he had arrived back into the bounds of his kingdom, the morning sun was shining high in the sky. After sidetracking himself in trying to find a proper vessel for his now-crumpled bit of salvation, he had made his way towards the castle, hoping to find his mother rousing herself for breakfast like any other day. However, when he made his way to her room to give her such an herb, he was greeted by the sight of her fresh corpse. She had fallen victim to her illness during the previous night, you see.

	Once he had found his mother in such a state, he shouted for the guards to bring a doctor before finding his way into a corner to sulk for the time.

	While our tale certainly doesn't end with a very uplifting note, it does explain how such an herb now grows so bountifully within our kingdom's walls. Personally, I believe that the prince's grief is what is causing all of these things to spring up, but, after all, a bard is only paid to tell a story and not much else. So, I advise you to take this story and bring it with you with a grain of salt, my dear.