Three young men make their way into a dried river bed, each searching for his own treasure. "Oh if I can only happen upon that which is rightfully mine by both blood and battle, I should become the greatest this nation has ever known. I will rule with a vengeful hammer, and strike down with nery a whim." The oldest holding a certain distaste for having to wait and then search, shouted at the top of his lungs.
  "Rightfully yours?" asked his younger brother, a kinder spirit than the former, "And to rule with a vengeful hammer? Dear brother, know you nothing of the world around us? You cannot simply strike and command obedience. You must acquire trust, and love, then loyalty."
  The last of the brothers, youngest of them all, had grown accustomed to their bickering. Today, as well as on others, his silence and their lack of focus paid off as he struck something squar and wooden with his toe, rimmed in gold that hardly shown in the light. He need only abandon them in the wood now.