{Volume 2: The Blackest Monkey} The Monkey King was enjoying an afternoon amble along the riverbank when, upon looking over his hairy shoulder, he noticed the Blackest Monkey he’d ever seen ambling along behind him. “Why do you follow me?” the Monkey King demanded of the Blackest Monkey, for he did not appreciate uninvited followings, especially on his riverbank amblings. “So that I might go where you go, be where you be, my King,” answered the Blackest Monkey. “And what if I do not want you to go where I go, be where I be?” clamored the irritated Monkey King with a spit and a gibber. “Wanting and having are not the same, my King,” answered the Blackest Monkey in a voice as smooth as banana juice. “I am the Monkey King! I do as I wish!” cried the now furious Monkey King with much shrieking and frothing. “Wishing and doing are not the same, my King,” answered the Blackest Monkey in a voice as silken as butterfly wings. Too wild to even spit or gibber, to shriek or froth, the Monkey King took to his heels and ran. Along the riverbank he raced, faster than the water, faster than the wind, faster than thought, for he was the Monkey King, and all know that the Monkey King has the fleetest feet in all the land. He ran to the end of the river, and then to the end of the mountains, and then to the end of the clouds, and then to the End of the World. And who should be there, waiting at his King’s feet at the End of the World, but the Blackest Monkey the King had ever seen. “Why do you follow me?” the Monkey King begged of him. “Have you ever been to the End of the World before, my King?” asked the Blackest Monkey. “No, I have not.” realised the Monkey King. “There is my reason to go where you go, be where you be, my King,” concluded the Blackest Monkey in a voice as warm and welcoming as death. { - Victario of Sarn}