Enter the Prologue, in his hand a scroll.
He clears his throat as he unfurls this shredded piece of paper, “Ahum”. A brief pause.
“In the woods there lies the scene,” he begins.
“Not too far from the residence of our esteemed king, a crowd gathered around a bard who spoke at the base of a wondrous tree.”
The Prologue climbs the stairs to further his reach, they are revealed to be the steps of the royal court.
“The living essence that flew through the tree was said to run through every vein of the king’s own folk too.”
He points at the audience and smiles.
“So famed grew the story of this wondrous tree, that the bard set it to parchment and all the kingdom rushed to claim their copy.”
The Prologue continues, his face now marred by sorrow.
“But when the copies ran out, the folk saw that the tree was gone, cut down into the thousands of sheets that inhabited their books ”
The Prologue points to a rotten tree stump.
“Mourning their loss, they warded off anyone who was found to deliver deceitful copies of the original tree”
“And so a war begun,” the Prologue murmurs to rush his introduction to an unsatisfactory and sudden close.
He exists the stage.
