Once...

Once, there was no king. But then the king came and brought a realm and law. Everything had its rules and traditions just like the tides of Atlantic - coming every day in the same time for thousands of years, as regular as leaves that know exactly when to fall and land on ground to make autumn. But the king has gone and with him his realm and his law. Since then all the rules and laws come from Paris, a great powerful city that wants to kill this small region, its culture and its language. But there is one thing that can never be taken away and killed - its honour. "Potius mori quam foedari" - that's what would every Breton tell to you. "Better to die than to lose honour..." The wind from Atlantic blows hard but the wind from the other side - Paris used to blow much much harder... And the leaves still fall onto the groud, and the tides still beat the coast.

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