When the Lions Sat at the Round Table-

The Lions – Old Empires & Traditional Superpowers

• Symbolism: Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, remnants of colonial empires.

• Traits: Pride, dominance, clinging to legacy, roaring louder than their real strength.

• Conflict: Fighting to keep fading crowns while the younger beasts move past them.

• Theme: The burden of legacy and the struggle against irrelevance.

In the valley of Old Stones, where time kept the echoes of conquest, the Lions gathered around a grand round table carved from the bones of past empires. Their manes were silvered with age, their eyes still sharp, but their paws heavy with the weight of centuries.

They were the Lions of Legacy — rulers who once roamed continents, who had planted flags on distant horizons, who had carved borders with claws and teeth. Britain, proud and weathered, carried the scent of oceans still clinging to his mane. France, draped in faded velvet, licked old scars that once spoke of revolutions and glory.

Spain sat quieter, her golden eyes dim but remembering the treasure fleets of long ago. Beside them lounged Portugal, Italy, and the scattered prides of Central Europe — each carrying their own fragments of grandeur.

At the Round Table, they roared — not to hunt, but to remind the valley of who they once were. Their voices thundered across the plains, rehearsing the songs of dominance: “We ruled the seas! We carved the world! We are the guardians of civilization!”

Yet their roars rang hollow to the younger beasts watching from the hills. The Eagles of the West, sleek and sharp, tilted their heads in amusement. The Dragons of the East coiled silently, listening, their fire unlit but waiting. The Bears of the North grumbled, unimpressed.

The Lions fought amongst themselves more than they fought the others. Britain puffed his mane, declaring his roar still ruled the oceans, though his claws could no longer reach as far.

France retorted with pride, her tongue elegant, insisting her legacy of culture and revolution still commanded reverence.

Spain snarled about her forgotten dominions, while Italy growled of Rome’s eternal shadow.

But every time they rose to clash, their paws slipped on the polished surface of the table — too smooth for war, too slippery for dominance. Their battles turned into bluster, their claws scratching only echoes.

And the valley began to shift without them. Trade routes snaked through lands they no longer controlled. Younger beasts formed packs and alliances without seeking the Lions’ approval.

Even the vultures stopped circling above them, finding fresher kills elsewhere.

Still, the Lions sat, bound not by power but by memory. They could not leave the Round Table, for it was the last throne they all shared — a monument to their pride.

At sunset, they raised their heads and roared once more, their voices blending into a symphony of fading crowns.

The world no longer trembled, but the sound lingered in the wind — a reminder that once, the Lions had ruled the earth, and that even fading kings cling hardest to their legacy.

By John Ikeji-Uju