Deep in the depths of the Spud Empire, where the soil is rich and the skies are gray, there ruled a monarch unlike any other: the Potato King.
The Potato King, a just and fair ruler, was known for his unparalleled mastery of the art of being bland.
His subjects, the peasants of the Spud Kingdom, looked up to him in awe, their bellies rumbling with hunger, their taste buds crying out for something, anything, to break the monotony of the potato diet.
But the Potato King, he was not one to be swayed by the whims of his people.
He ruled with an iron fist, his rule marked by an unyielding commitment to the cause of all things beige.
His most trusted advisor, a wise and wily old carrot named Carl, stood by his side, whispering words of encouragement and the occasional "you're a genius, your potato-highness."
And so, the Potato King's legend grew, a shining beacon of blandness in a world of flavor and variety.
But, as the seasons passed, the kingdom began to wither and die, its people growing restless under the weight of the Potato King's unyielding tyranny.
The end came suddenly, as it often does, and the Potato King met his demise, his people rejoicing at the news of his downfall.
Read the Epilogue for the rest of the storyA king is only as good as his spuds.