A member of the royal family has died, one who for a time sat upon the thrown as ruler of this nation. There is a case to be made that not only did he sit upon the throne for his allotted term but that he was for much of his life the power behind it. And like any good monarch, he bequeathed the throne to his eldest son when he had come to manhood. It was due to go to another of his heirs as well, but not everything goes to script. Fear not, for there are many left of his bloodline, many who feel entitled to rule by birth.
A king has died, and we are now expected to pay proper respect to one who has ruled over us. It matters not that we were mere pawns in the game, to be sacrificed when necessary in war, to always be the ones who trudge forward—only forward—at the bidding of those who thrust us into battles we have no interest in, shall never profit from. The king must be protected at all costs, hidden away in a castle while pawns perish for lack of health care. Kings are eulogized while the deaths of pawns go unheralded.
To you who find yourselves in the position of pawns, I say this: do not mourn the loss of your king, for there will always be another to replace him. Kings seem to be as replaceable as pawns. Let your attention be focused, rather, on your fellow pawns who suffer in the games kings play. Among your fellow pawns you will find true bravery. Among your fellow pawns you will find plenty to weep for: those who go hungry that the kings might feast, those who spend their youth in labor so that the princes might be groomed to power, those who go without so that those of royal blood might be dwell in luxury, those who toil in anonymity so that the anointed may reap the glory. The difference between pawns and kings is that pawns are willing to serve while kings demand service, and there is more nobility in serving others than there will ever be in those who are served.