On a throne across the cavern,
Sits the figure,
The prince approaches him,
His trembling increasing with every step,

There is something about this figure,
He seems to emanate darkness,
The prince's instincts plead with him to run,
While his ambition commands him to proceed,

The prince stops,
Not daring to go further,
He recovers the art of speech,
And addresses the figure,

"I am Laertes, pr-, king of these lands."
No visible reaction from the figure,
But somehow he knew that his words were understood.

"My nation needs to expand,
To progress in order to survive,
But I cannot do this on my own,
So I am requesting your aid."

Again, the prince knew he was understood,
And then he knew that the figure agreed,

"What do you want in return for your assistance?"
There was no reply,

The prince waits a moment,
Then flees in fear.