The Spark of War

Meanwhile, in the land of Humania, a strong and influential man ruled the land. He was strong, with his words, and influential with the way he acted. King Maine was the descendant of many other rulers and kings that sat on the same throne as him, reigning for what seemed to be their whole lives.

Maine got up from his throne, greeted by royal knights glittering in gold armor. A servant knelt before him, handing him a cup of black tea. The king smiled at the young servant, patted his head, then took hold of the cup of tea, then kept on walking. His red cloak swayed back and forth as the king made strides on the red carpeted floor to his destination.

He walked up to the balcony across from his throne down the hall, and looked out to see his vast kingdom glistening in the sunlight like gold. The people below bustling all over were like tiny grains of gold that make up an ingot, the whole kingdom. A large smile grew on his face, because as he looked out, he knew his people weren't starving, they weren't in poverty, they were thriving. Main would always say to his servants every once in a while, "The people, the servants, you make me a king. A king can't be a king without a kingdom." He was trying to be modest. He chuckled a bit and went to scratch his thick black beard.

Maine turned around, and headed back, but instead of walking straight towards his throne, he made a left that led to the stairs. "I'm going for a walk outside," the king said to his knights standing by his throne.

"Yes sir! Let me arrange for an escort."

"I don't need one."

"But sir—"

"I don't need an escort," the king insisted. "My people would never harm me anyways."

"Yes, Your Highness!" the knight nodded.

King Maine walked down the stairs, greeting servants, guards, business people, and anyone else that walked passed him. A young man wearing a white coat waved to him as he passed by.

"Y-Your Highness! Good day," he was flustered. After passing him, the man picked at his head, fixing his dirty blonde hair.

"To you too!" The king grew a large smile on his face. The day was great so far.

Maine sauntered out of the gate of the fortress, and made his way down the hills to the neighborhoods and markets. Dry, dusty dirt coated his leather boots as he hiked down the hill. Dirt kicked up all around him, yet he stood tall and elegant, a dapper man indeed.

At the bottom of the hill were shops, too many to count, that spread all over the place. The marketplace. Restaurants bustled as the employees hauled pounds and pounds of raw meat inside. Young journalists cried out to the crowd of busy people, promoting their latest stories. Guards chatted away as they munched on bread stuffed with meat, laughing uncontrollably. Their blades and armor shone brightly as the sun rested upon them for quite a while. This nation truly is a developed nation, more so than any other country. The king strolled through the now stone streets, cleaned and polished to perfection. Many people walking by turned their heads to see their great leader, and broke into smiles. Shoppers paying for their goods stopped the transaction just to witness his pure, mighty, and powerful presence. A young boy, grasping his mother's hand, turned his head in an instant to see the king. His straight coffee colored hair whipped quickly to the front of his face as he turned so fast.

"Mom! It's the King!" he exclaimed. He released from his mother's hand and raced towards Maine.

"Wait! Get back here!" she called to the boy.

The boy sprinted to the King, and squeezed his hip tightly. "King!" He grasped him even tighter.

"Whoa," the King was completely caught off guard, yet he felt something from that hug. Warmth. This is why he was protecting this nation. To ensure the safety and security of the people, and the children too. Children like this boy here.

"You got a pretty strong grip, I'm amazed," Maine chuckled. He knelt down to the boy, and reached into his coat pocket. He swept his hand side to side, until he caught hold of something, a singular piece of wrapped candy. Candy was created there in Humania a couple years ago, but has been going through massive innovations. You can't find candy anywhere else in the world, which is why the kid's eyes lit up like the blazing sun that lights up the day.

"Here, take it. It's a gift from me." Maine smiled brightly, and placed the candy into the boy's palm. "Soon, candy like this will be bought everywhere. I promise you that."

The boy reached out and slowly lifted the candy off of the King's hand with his small, soft fingers. The mother stood behind the boy, her heart practically melting. The pureness and glee her son displayed was heartwarming. The boy turned around, unwrapped the candy, plopped it onto his tongue, and left with his mom holding his hand.

King Maine waved back to him, then stood up, dusting off his boots. Loud clanks surged through the city block as blacksmiths pounded on hot metal and quenched it in water. The water hissed and steam as if it did not welcome the metal into it's domain. Maine stopped at the blacksmith shop, going into a warm, roomy, and a somewhat bland stone building. There was no color present in the building except for black and grey. The king pushed open the metal door, and the water hissed at him as he entered.

There the blacksmith had a large metal mask on while he slowly lowered the metal into the water. He glanced over his broad shoulders and jumped back in surprise. "King?!" He removed his mask and got to his knees, bowing his head. "Your Highness, I didn't not expect your visit, but please do take what you require."

"No, it's fine! I'm just looking around, that's all," Maine reassured him. He insisted he got to his feet, as there is no need for such an action at the moment.

"Oh okay," the blacksmith returned to his feet slowly. He was a jolly fellow, his gut hung over his belt, his chubby face was red and wet with sweat. His long jet black hair glistened with the sweat that wettened it.

The handsome king paced all around the shop, looking at the armor that was displayed, the metal bracers that sat upon a soft crimson blanket, and the weapons, of course. There were broadswords, spears, battle axes for the hefty warriors, and daggers for the more petite ones. Maine looked at one of the swords, and clutched the handle, feeling very familiar with the hilt of it. He picked up the sword and looked at it from all angles, testing its weight.

"You want that sword?" asked the blacksmith. "You can have it."

"No, it's fine. I'm just admiring your craftsmanship. Very nice work indeed."

The blacksmith looked at the king curiously. He seems so comfortable, so composed, so… relaxed when handling the sword. He carried the sword skillfully, inspecting the sword like an expert. His eyes were all over the sword, his focus on it was extraordinary.

"Say…" the blacksmith intriguingly stared at the back of Maine's head all the while polishing a sword. "Have you ever wielded a sword before? Seems to me you got quite a bit of knowledge on weapons."

"Once upon a time, yes. But not anymore. Never again. Nowadays, looking at the craftsmen skills of people is a hobby of mine."

The blacksmith smiled, then dug into a chest. "If craftsmanship is what you're looking for, then check this out." He pulled out a crossbow from a chest under the counter and placed it on top in front of the king. The crossbow was made from glossy, durable dark brown wood, the strings were hardy, and it was lightweight.

"W-What's this?" Maine's voice raised like a child receiving a new toy on his birthday.

"This here's a crossbow. The bigger, better, stronger cousin to the bow. A man living in the next town over has been distributing the schematics to build this beauty to major manufacturers, and I managed to get my hands on one. Apparently, this man invented the weapon and wants the whole country to use it."

The king picked up the weapon, and stroked it with gentle and soft fingertips. He moved it and rotated it around, looking at it from every angle. The wood that made up the crossbow was so clean, so polished that you could see your own reflection on it. While the king had possession of it, he felt as if he was a danger. He knew nothing about this new weapon, and here he was, messing around with it and moving it in different positions. He did not know how to work it, or even how to hold it. He figured it would be like a normal bow and arrow, but with this there was an actual handle, an actual trigger to release the arrow.

"This… is incredible." Maine was dumbfounded. "I fear for those on the receiving side of this monster."

"Right?" The blacksmith looked more boastful for having this beast than sorrowful for the enemy. "This thing can shoot hundreds of feet across a battlefield and it launches the arrow with such power that it even rivals the power of projectiles created by the Glacials. I would say this is an anti-Glacial weapon."

King Maine's eyes opened wide and he practically dropped the crossbow on the counter. "Don't say that, we have a non-aggression pact with them, don't want to spread rumors of a Glacial killer."

"Huh? But we got to be sure to have something up our sleeves in case the Glacials decide to break the pact."

"Don't worry they won't break the pact."

Instantaneously, two soldiers came running into the building, exhausted and out of breath. "King! King!" they hollered. "The Glacials broke the pact!"

"You have got to be kidding me." Maine turned away from them and began to pray. "Please tell these guards are just drunk. Please tell me these guards are just drunk. Please, please, please tell me they're drunk."

Behind the guards stood a handsome young man, around his early twenties. His eyes were blood red, and his cloak was brown, complemented with a crimson red hood. His vibrant orange hair was silky, straight, and well kept which helped his good looks greatly. He pushed the guards aside, then knelt before the king.

"Your majesty, I am a Mystial, an ally of your people, and I have discovered something that could threaten your kingdom. I went to scout Glacial out, the only country capable of harming the mainland, and discovered that they've killed your son, Johnathon." He handed the king Johnathon's necklace stained in his own blood. "This was what I was able to salvage." Maine grabbed it, and clutched it tightly. He yearned for his son to return, yet he did not. "No," he softly wept to himself. "Not him too. First my wife, now my son." He looked down to the Mystial, then called to him softly. "How… did he die?"

"His ship was ambushed by unknown attackers, and he went overboard and washed up on a Glacial port. Two Glacial soldiers took him to their main headquarters, tortured him, defiled him, then executed him. They now have troops building up at their borders, ready for an assault."

The king looked troubled greatly, but was then fueled by anger, and fear. He feared that if Glacia were to attack them, they would do what they did to Johnathon to the citizens of this land. His priority was to protect his people, but he didn't want to risk high casualties.

"They killed your son," the Mystial reminded him. "Is that not enough to retaliate? They soiled the Royal name, and defiled your own blood! And here they stand at the border, scoffing as they remark you as a coward!" The Mystial raised his voice louder. "Join Mystia in defeating Glacia, and you can guarantee the protection of your people, and let your son rest peacefully."

As the Mystial rambled on, something tugged onto Maine's heart. Seven years ago, They received a letter from Glacia, suggesting a non-aggression pact.

"Hey Dad! I heard Glacia sent you a letter about a pact of some sort," Johnathon said with such a sweet voice.

"Yeah, not very long ago."

"Oh, what did you say about it?"

"I accepted it."

Johnathon sighed heavily, his whole body was seemingly relieved. "Thank goodness, I really wanted to be allies with them."

There was a short silence as the two of them stared off into the distance. Maine sat upon his throne, yawning while Johnathon scratched his head. "You know, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to be more than allies to the Glacials, I want to be friends. I could tell they were kind. One of them was about to strike me down, I was unarmed, scared, injured, but he spared me. He let me go, he smiled as I escaped safely, he waved goodbye, like a friend. These people aren't bad, they're truly chivalrous warriors."

Maine felt lied to. He thought about how Johnathon trusted the Glacials, and for them to return the favor by torturing and killing him was unacceptable. "We're going to war with Glacia," declared Maine.