Kings in castles rule with blood, stolen from the men and mares. The blood of workers, weavers, woodsman, fed into the vats that bruised them. Blood takes on the form of all, life and love and country call. Even words that scar the mind, scar the body, all in kind. Kings in castles rule with words, stolen from the dragons horde. The words of children, changing, chosen, written in the books that bore them.