King of Shells
My warriors could not preserve my body, but my fishermen preserve my features.
The sand of the sea has washed over my bones, and the salt of the water has rusted my armour. What lives here now, where my navy sank, are only small crabs.
The fishermen catch the crabs, and inspect them carefully. In the time of their fathers, those with plain shells were caught and eaten, and those that bore some measure of my face were released to breed. Their children all carry my face now, so the fishermen never touch them, because legends last far beyond supper.
The sand of the sea has washed over my bones, and the salt of the water has rusted my armour. What lives here now, where my navy sank, are only small crabs.
The fishermen catch the crabs, and inspect them carefully. In the time of their fathers, those with plain shells were caught and eaten, and those that bore some measure of my face were released to breed. Their children all carry my face now, so the fishermen never touch them, because legends last far beyond supper.