The people in the kingdom of Oprathia was born in wealth. The kingdom was known to be a place full of treasures and creatures that people would think only existed in myths. A war broke out centuries ago with the beasts and humans in the land of Oprathia. Stephen Bryton, their king at the time had been a coward, too afraid to fight for his kingdom. He'd been sleeping behind this throne, watching as his land started to crumble to dust. No matter how many times his people or queen would beg, it was fallen on deaf ears. However, once prince Johnathon had become of age, he had no choice but to overthrow the king. When the king wasn't looking, he added a few drops of poison in his wine. At the dinner table, while everyone was eating, the king took a sip from his goblet. The king's laughs turned into gasps or air. He coughed and wheezed until blood was evident. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and became red as his veins from his neck popped out. He abruptly fell onto the floor as the poison consumed his body. Everyone in the room was left in shock, the queen was the first to break the silence. She let out a startling scream, heaved with sobs that racked her body. She knelt down beside the king, taking his head on her lap. Brushing his cheeks softly, she whispered hoarsely, "Come back to me my king, don't leave me, not yet." A hand on her shoulder startled her, looking up she saw his son slowly shaking his head.

"He's dead, mother I'm sorry."

A few months after the king's death was announced, the prince's ceremony was held. The prince made his way to the throne, the golden cape flowing as he went. His heart thudded loudly as he sat down on the throne. The audience all sat stiffly like a statue, they held in their breaths awaiting for their king to be crowned. The priest who was standing in front of him held out a scroll as he read," We seek out for vengeance, with our mighty swords that lay upon our bloodied hands. As the devil comes forth, marching as though he rules this land. We shall suffer no longer! Behold the great king Johnathon as he will side with the angels and bring peace upon us." The priest came forth and took hold of the crown that was placed on a crimson pillow. He carefully placed it on the king's head as he handed over the Sovereign's Orb. It sparkled with jewels around the orb that looked like tiny stars in the night sky. The king felt the coolness of the crown as it rests on his head. "All hail king Johnathon," the priest yelled out across the room. Not long after the people started chanting his name in unison. Long live the king.

After the ceremony, the king went to his corridors. With a soft sigh, he placed his crown down on the small pillow. Finger's barely touching the crown, he traced the jewels embedded in it. His heart twisted in knots, his eyes became moist. Although it was he who killed his father, he had no choice but to do it. He loved his father dearly and would go back to when he was alive in a heartbeat, but at last, the tyranny of the king had to come to a stop.

Johnathon was startled awake by a sudden bang on the door. "Your highness, we need your assistance! It's important," Nicolas, his soldiers' captain said urgently. Nicolas was still a simple knight when the old king was alive, but once he had died Johnathon appointed him as the captain. He trusted Nicolas with his life, they'd been friends since they were younger and had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Johnathon slipped out of the covers and went for the door," What has happened Nicolas?"

"Mighty Brixius' army are coming here from the north, with how limited our soldiers are, we won't win."

"All right, we have no choice but to let out our dragons. Send out an army of our finest soldiers to secure the breach."

"But your highness-"

Johnathon cut him off," No, Nicolas do as I say, we must make haste."

"Y-yes my king," Nicolas said as he scurried away.

Once the door slammed shut, Johnathon let out a sigh. There was no way he could defeat an army twice as much as his. The beats had ogres, dragons, and the creatures from the undead. They can easily overpower them if they so wished for it. He put his cape over his shoulders and went out the door.

As he headed through the halls, he heard a commotion coming from the court. Upon entering, it became dead quiet. His royal ambassadors were all standing up, glaring at one another. "Well it seems I came here at the wrong time," said Johnathon sitting down on his seat.

"King, we cannot bring out our soldiers," said a man in royal blue.

"They'll all die out there."

"We'll lose!"

"Calm down Ambassadors, I have another plan in mind," Johnathon said, sighing.

"What is it then, to kill ourselves instead?" an ambassador said with venom.

Johnathon's eyes widened, "of course not, our only choice is to make a distraction. Something that would lead them away."

"We need to weaken them, Ogres are known to have a fear of fire," Nicolas said, leaning against the wall. Johnathon almost didn't even notice that he was here.

"Yes exactly, we'll gather our oils and gasoline fuel to put it along the river line. Then put it up in flames."

"What if it goes wrong? It might not work."

"Then... let us hope it doesn't come to that, We'll place most of our traps by the fire as well," Johnathon stood up," Clear out, we have no time to waste."