Once upon a time there was a kingdom called The Kingdom Of Far, Far Away.
The kingdom was not only far, far away , as its name already made you guess, but it was also a vast realm swept by swirling winds, tapping rains or scorching heat.
But of course that is not all there is. The kingdom was ruled by a fair warrior. Not fair by his looks, but fair by the nature of the decisions he was making for his subjects.
In fact, there was a saying among them , that is every subject in the realm , that no one really saw the brave king but his iron mask . And that once you caught a glimpse of his true face , no one would ever see you again.
One morning , the skies grew darker than usual and the strong stormy arms of the wind swept the kingdom's flesh to the bone.
The face under the iron mask frowned in worry for the fate of the crops and the people -thin dry straws in the claws of nature.
The warrior paced the room in search of a way to calm down the beast , but peace was stubbornly hidding under the corners of despair.
He took his sword out, as if to threaten and send into submission the very heart of the rain or take the eye of the raging hurricane out.
But the beast would laugh to his face or....rather the bucket like iron mask covering him like a shield.
Three times did he spin his almighty sword over his head in hope of the winds dying down and the rain dropping at his feet like raggedy clothes.
Three times did the wind spin faster and faster - chariots rushing into the madness of battles.
Three times did the rain rage into downpour like broken order of oceans over his head.
....and onto his knees , feeble hands losing grasp of the grass and roots encrusted handle of the almighty sword, the warrior finally understood.
His hands reached for the rusty locks lost on the sides of the mask
His fingers fought the hardest battle making their way into the stubborn metal hinges.
.....the locks had to admit defeat and the frowning concentration in his eyes cut through the heart of the storm like a newly honed blade.
The mask fell dead at his feet covered by the ashes of storm sifting - fresh snow through the dim light of a new born element, never seen or heard of before .....
