"Lillard, come over here." The crimson sun spewed a cast of red light over the kingdom of Raftalia. Standing in the window of a giant brick castle was a lone man, accompanied only by his son.

'King Edward Nightingale' His portrait read, his fingers bedazzled in gold as his robe graced the ground with its fine fur. His shoes are made of the finest leather gold can buy, and his giant crown flaunting his wealth.

"Yes, Dad?" A young boy clings against the giant man's leg, his golden blond hair glistening in the sun. His ocean blue eyes reflected the red light, creating a facade of purple that layered over his iris. Freckles riddled his face.

"Do you see that?" Edward points to the ground, kids are running around as women hang clothes and the men come back from work. The villages were tightly packed inside tall thick walls, a happy ecosystem. "All those buildings and people?"

"Mhm." Lillard nodded his head as he held a teddy bear in his hands.

"One day, those buildings, those people, and those walls will be yours to rule," Edward said solemnly, his fingers lingering in the air as he pointed out to the world that lay below them. "We may be royals and we may be rich, but without the proper guidance and leader, these riches will be stripped away by our kind. You understand that, Lillard?" He looks down at his son. Lillard just nodded his head as he continued looking down at his nation-to-be.

Lillard, at the mere age of seven, could barely comprehend what a 'kingdom' was, yet he understood what his purpose was. It had been instilled inside of him from the very moment he was born. To be a leader. To be a king.

"Big day am I right?" A young woman sat on a chair as an older lilac paced around the room. "You look excited."

Lillard had a confused expression on his face, walking around aimlessly as he thought deeply. He hadn't changed much since he was a child. His blond curly hair swept over his eyes as his freckles glistened in the lamplight.

"Cheer up darling, you're about to become a king." The woman sighed as she took a sip from a wooden cup. Her robe was extravagant, decked out in jewels from head to toe, the total cost being able to feed an entire country for a decade. She had her hair tied up neatly in a large cascading bun.

Lillard turned his head sharply towards the woman. "Diane, the last thing I want to think about tonight is becoming a king." His voice was high-pitched yet affirmative. "I've still got a whole raid to conduct." He picks up a sword lying against a barrel, its sharp edge glistening in the sun that pierced through the tent's roof.

"You be safe out there, okay?" Diane grabbed Lilard's wrist as he left the tent. "I'll be waiting here for you my lord." Diane lowers her head in respect.

"No need to bow your head to me, and I'll return hopefully in one piece." Lillard scoffs. "I'll take two pieces if that's the best I can get." He raises Diane by her hand and leans in, kissing her on the mouth.

Both of them share a moment as the sound of raging horses neighing and revving up catches the attention of both of them. "Okay dear, I'll be on my way." He disengages Diane, "Goodbye my beloved."

An entire battalion had gathered outside of the tent, their weapons drawn and their men at attention. They were in the middle of a desert, the destitute dunes whirled up sandstorms that made it hard to breathe. "Your royal highness," A woman approached Lilard, holding a mask in hand.

"Thank you Careah." Lillard inspects the mask as he blows on it, wiping away the dust as he fits it on his head. It fit snugly as the contours of his face melded with the interior, his eyes bulging through the metal sockets.

Lillard turns and looks towards his entire army of 200 men and women, all gathered on this occasion to launch a full-on assault. "Men and women of my 17th Cavalry!" His voice boomed through the metal grates of his mask. "We will be launching a full-scale attack on the town of Hosawrd where they have directly gone against the king's word!" Lillard raised his sword into the air. "Do you understand?!" The morning sun glistens off his chosen blade, the corona of the star wrapping around the sword's razor-sharp edges.

"Yes!" The entire battalion shouts in unison as the men and women jump on their horses, their bows in hand and their shields on their backs.

"17th Calvary! Today might be the last day in this god-forsaken world, so make it count! That's a direct order!" Spit spewed out of the 17-year-old's mask, his words lifting the spirit and morale of an entire army.

The atmosphere changed from a tense and cutthroat atmosphere to that of a party. The cheers and commands of the men and women harmonize into a cacophony of spirit.

"Be safe dear." Diane looks onwards to Lilard and the calvary slowly making their way across the desert as she sits in a tent, a cup in hand.

The entire cavalry advances through the blazing hot sun and the thick forest jungle, their men diligently looking for potential dangers. Lillard sat atop a white horse at the front of the pack, leading the entire cavalry with his iron mask and steel blade.

"Your Majesty!" A man stumbles through a wooden door that's been left ajar, stretching the entire length of the room's height. "You're Majesty!" He trips over a fold in the carpet and drops an entire stack of yellowed paper on the royal red carpet.

"What is it?" A man stood on the throne with his legs crossed and his golden robe covering the entire stretch of the throne. Two women dressed in revealing clothes held grapes and a giant leaf to fan him.

"They're coming!" The man looks up, his worried expression piercing through his horrible bowl cut. "The 17th Calvary!"

"The 17th Calvary?" The man strokes his brown beard as he ponders to himself. The Seventeenth Calvary. It sounded familiar to the noble, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"Lillard! The Nightmare Child!" The man uttered those forsaken words in the chambers of royalty, casting an eternal spell over the atmosphere of the room. Immediately, the energy shifted to that of impending doom. The women's faces curled up in horror as the lone noble's eyes twitched.

"Why would h-!" The noble stands up, throwing his cup full of red wine onto the messenger. "Why does he want my head?!" He shouts at the messenger, a slew of saliva and spit flying out of his mouth.

The messenger kept his head low and looked down onto the carpet, afraid of making eye contact with the king.

The papers on the floor were riddled with tiny scribbles, all documents of the noble's direct betrayal of the greater kingdom of Raftalia. They were handwritten orders given out by the noble to deliberately sabotage trading routes and intercept them, plundering their goods while chalking them up to rogue pirates. This castle stood on stolen gold. Lillard was merely here to return what was rightfully his.

"The greatest part of having a small army is that you're never spotted until it's far too late." Lillard stands on the armrests of the golden throne, his blade in hand, pressed against the noble's throat.

"LILA-!" He screams in agony as his hands fruitlessly scuttle in the air as the blade slices through his throat in one smooth motion. A burst of red coats the wine in an immiscible coat, staining the carpet and the messenger. Both of the women standing adjacent to the noble received a spray of royal blood straight to the face.

"Don't worry, I don't kill civilians." Lillard yawns, picking his sword back up and sheathing it as he wipes the blood off with his bare thumb.

"The king!" A guard shows up in the chambers, being a witness to the slaughter that had taken place. Immediately as the guard appeared, the messenger took a chance and started sprinting towards the exit.

"You, however," Lillard appears in front of the messenger, his sword placed tip-first in front of him. The messenger, blinded by his fear of being killed, ran straight into the sword. The tip of the blade effortlessly sliced through the man's abdomen and caused him to cough up blood over Lilard's expensive gown. "Aren't a civilian. You've been gaining from the greater kingdom's loss without ever saying a word. Greed shall never go unpunished." He whispers into the dying man's ear as he swishes his blade to face the sharp end upwards. In one motion, he swung his blade upwards and sliced the man in half, causing him to split into two grotesque parts and fall adjacent to Lillard.

Both of the women merely kept quiet and hid behind the noble's throne, quivering in their clothes that merely covered their essentials.

"Prince Lilard!" The guard adorned a full set of metallic armor from head to toe, his appendages wrapped in a further layer of chain mail. "It's an honor to be able to meet you face to face!"

"Yeah, sure." Lillard had an unimpressed expression, yawning as he spun his blade back and inserted it into his hilt.

"My name is Jacquious Monroe! I formally challenge you to a duel!" The guard raises the window covering his eyes to formally challenge Lillard to a duel, yet he had already lost it behind it had even started.

"Do you want to know why I don't wear armor?" Lillard stood directly in front of Jacquious, the razor-sharp tip of his blade a mere millimeter away from his iris. "I don't plan on getting hit." He kept his sword stationary in the air as if he had been frozen in time. "Strike one."

Jacques immediately repelled the attack with a downward sword strike, yet it took every fiber of his being to not scream in fear. "How did he-!" Before he could even react to Lilard's next move, he felt a clink on his chest.

"Strike two." Lillard had ducked below and had clinked on Jacquious chest plate.

"Why- You!" Jacques, now in a state somewhere between infuriation, confusion, and sheer downright fear, is now acting before thinking, making rash decisions based on his even rasher rationale.

"Strike three. You're out." Lillard sat on top of Jacquious's shoulders, his legs swinging freely as he held his blade up to the chain mail that covered his fleshy neck. "I win!" Lillard kicked himself off Jacquious and sliced off his neck, moving in harmony with his body as he landed on his feet.

His metallic-covered body lay on the ground as his head rolled around on the carpet. Lillard looks around and sees both of the carcasses on the floor. Feeling satisfied with himself, he sheathes his sword and pulls out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his face.

"Ladies!" He yells to the general vicinity of the throne. "You can go now!"