A king there was, who death did fear
and so, from the world did always stay
aloof, as if it were some bane
that would from him his life-blood drain.
He was known as the Flameless King,
and ‘cross the centuries he did reign.
In Candelabria, his kingdom made
of folks of wax, on head a flame.
Factions were, of candles’ hues,
loyal to crown or naught thereof,
but always watchful for some chance
to strike the king, when weak, by lance.
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