Dictator.

[Xaious, Master of Time]

It started simply. He had procured and already stolen pair of combat boots from his brother. More than a year, even two had passed by, that he wore these every day, and eventually acquired a long, dark green trench coat. Shortly thereafter came the beret. The image of tyranny had placed itself upon him, without much thought on his part. It didn't help that his friends declared him Official Dictator of the local mall. Humor him as this did, there was little response he could come up with the day the head boss at his place of employment spoke "Heil" and saluted. The fry-cook joined in. Leaving work that day, it clicked for good.

 

Five years after that night, at the age of twenty-six, the young man placed himself on a boat bound for Africa. He brought along twenty loyal friends and followers, an all the supplies they could afford after saving for five years. There was a large quantity of non-perishable food items, but more important were the tractors and equipment in the cargo bay. It was a nice trip filled with the finishing of his plan, and eventually they set down in Egypt, and transported themselves and their supplies to Ethiopia, where they set about their work. His plan was simple, though costly: Feed enough people to build up a small work force able to operate the machinery; dig irrigation canals and begin farming what vegetation they could grow, ship in what food they could. There were a few minor complications, and shady removals of rivals is never easy to shake, but aftersome long years, His plan had brought the poor country from starvation to moderate health. As the population's health improved, so too did their work, and the quality of the land. All of these things steadily improved, and eventually the young man was recognized for what he had done for that country. Having saved the country's population from their horrible plight, this man began spreading his helping hand to other countries in similar conditions. By the time this hero had made forty, there remained no hungry culture in Africa.

 

In his time as Official Dictator of a third-world country, he had gone through a good number of boots, and decorated his coat with many medals, even acquired a high quality beret, but had failed to achieve one thing: Love. He had the love of nations and the world itself, but the love of another had eluded him. Or rather, he had eluded Love. The ruler of a nation, especially such a young and handsome leader as he, would not have any trouble finding someone to be with, it is true. Most misfortunately for this man, he found it true that having someone there to give his affection to was a distraction: It is more fun to behold a beautiful face than it is to till a field. So this man evaded it when he could. Nevertheless, he ached inside more and more, every day the pain grew.

 

One morning, when the Head of Procuration went to check on the Dictator for their weekly meeting, he discovered the ruler was not to be found. The imperial room had been left as normal, with nothing amiss, save for the man of the times. Some children reported having seen their king walking into the sunrise that morning, but he was never seen again.

 

Without his leadership, the economy of his country slowly crumbled.