When hands were first stretched forth to fashion this monumental chronicle of kings, a noble protector of exalted lineage stepped into the light—a youth endowed with the heroic essence of ancient blood, wise of mind, vigilant, and possessed of a radiant soul. He was a master of sound counsel, modesty, fair speech, and gentle grace. Sheltering the poet like a delicate, fresh apple from the harsh winds of fortune, he raised him from the humble dust unto the high realm of Saturn. Gold and silver were as worthless dust in his eyes, for true generosity adorned his noble heart.
Yet alas, that upright cypress of the garden vanished from the assembly of men, ensnared by bloodthirsty adversaries, leaving neither trace nor sign of life or death. Though heartbroken and trembling like a willow branch in the winter storm, the poet held fast to his patron’s noble counsel: to turn away from deceit toward righteousness, and to complete this glorious Book of Kings for the exalted monarchs of the world.