The sun cast a warm, golden hue over the castle walls of the bustling kingdom of Corvidae. The streets below buzzed with the noise of people going about their daily lives, a symphony of activity and vibrancy. From the highest tower of the grand castle, King Alaric, a tall and commanding figure, stepped out with his only child, young Ica, perched on his shoulders. As they looked down towards the view of the kingdom, King Alaric smiled to himself. To the sovereign, beauty could be seen in the lives and prosperity of their people, and their kingdom, and at this moment, the view from above was truly beautiful.

King Alaric gently placed Ica down and pointed towards the lively streets. “Look, Ica,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “This, my son, is our home. Corvidae. The land where dreams soar and spirits never yield. Do you see our people living their lives down there?”

Ica, his dark, fluffy hair tousled by the gentle breeze, nodded eagerly. “Yes, Father. They seem happy.”

King Alaric smiled, a proud glint in his piercing blue eyes. “Yes, son, they are happy because they are free. Free to live, to dream, and to soar. Their freedom is proof of the legacy left by our previous kings and queens, who built this kingdom with the same driving force that keeps me going even today.” He said, placing his crown on the table beside them. “The goal of Freedom.”

Ica looked at his father, confused. He didn’t fully grasp his father’s words, but he understood the spirit behind them. The king patted his son's head. “Perhaps I’m speaking too bluntly. Come here.” He gestured for Ica to sit beside him as they continued to overlook the kingdom.

As they sat there together, King Alaric began to recount the tales of Corvidae’s past, his words painting vivid pictures in Ica’s young mind. He spoke of the first king, the founder of Corvidae, who united the scattered tribes and forged a kingdom from the wild lands. He spoke of the Queen of the Golden Era, whose wisdom and kindness brought prosperity and peace. He spoke of the King of the Warring Era, who defended their home against invaders with unmatched valor.

Ica listened intently, his young heart swelling with pride and ambition. “Will I be a great king like them, Father?”

King Alaric gently lifted his son from his lap and placed him in front of him. “No, son. You will be the best of us. You will soar higher than anyone before you.” He placed his crown on Ica’s head, much too large for the young boy’s head. “When you grow old enough for this crown to fit, you must remember what matters most.”

Ica lifted the heavy crown, looking up at his father. “Our kingdom?”

The king chuckled softly. “Close. Our people.”

“The walls can fall, and the castle can burn, but as long as our people are safe, we will continue to soar. They are the wind beneath our wings, and you will be the king that keeps us soaring. But that’s for your future. For now, let the current king handle the talk of responsibility and glory. You focus on enjoying your childhood.” The king said, as he gently patted his son.

The king’s words etched themselves into Ica’s heart, planting the seeds of a future where he would strive to fulfill his father’s vision. As they made their way down from the tower, Ica’s mind was filled with dreams of a kingdom where freedom reigns and where he would be the hero his father believed him to be.

The castle courtyard was alive with the echoes of youthful laughter and the thrum of excitement. The once peaceful grounds were now a battlefield of imagination, where two boys raced across the cobblestones, their spirited cries filling the air. The sound of wooden swords clashing filled the yard, as the two most prominent children in the kingdom were having their own little adventure with each other.

Ica with his dark hair now more tousled from hours of play, wielded a sturdy stick as if it were a mighty sword. His eyes gleamed with determination, a reflection of the dreams and promises that had been etched into his young heart. Naga, with his quick wit and agile movements, parried and dodged, his own stick held in a defensive stance. The sun cast long shadows across the courtyard, accentuating the boys' animated figures as they engaged in their playful duel.

Naga was the son of Lord Serin, the head advisor to King Alaric. A man of sharp intellect and subtle charisma, Lord Serin had been a trusted confidant to the king for many years. His presence was both commanding and calming, a testament to his ability to navigate the complex world of politics and counsel with finesse. Naga had inherited his father's keen mind and agile reflexes, traits that served him well in their games and would later be the brain to Ica’s brawn.

King Alaric, stood beside him. His reign had brought him the title of ‘The King of The Peaceful Era’, as his integrity and strength had kept the kingdom without conflict or fear for years. He watched with a mix of pride and amusement as his son swung his stick with youthful vigor, his technique lacking but his spirit undeniable. “Ah Serin, look at my son,” King Alaric chuckled, his deep voice resonating with affection. “He swings with such courage, if not quite skill!”

Lord Serin glanced at Ica, then back at King Alaric, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Yes, much like his father—ambition with no clear direction. Quite inspiring.”

King Alaric’s face clouded with a mock scowl. “What did you just say—”

“Now, now. Play nice in front of the children,” interjected a soft, melodic voice. The two men turned to see Queen Serena, her green hair gleaming in the sunlight, a gentle smile gracing her lips. King Alaric, momentarily embarrassed, nodded awkwardly. “I apologize dear. This bastard here was just being a jerk again.”

Queen Serena’s gaze shifted to Lord Serin. “Is that true, Serin?”

“Yes, sister,” Lord Serin replied, scratching his head, his demeanor visibly subdued.The two men were visibly docile in front of Queen Serena, being the wife of the King and the sister of his Advisor, she was practically one of the only two women who could freely speak against the two most powerful figures of Corvidae. The other of course being-

The conversation was interrupted by another presence. An elegant woman with her hair styled in a tight bun walked past Queen Serena. She reached out and tugged sharply on Lord Serin’s ear. “Are you causing trouble again?” she chided.

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“A-argh, honey, that hurts—” Lord Serin protested as his wife, Madam Loraine, pulled his ear with a fiery intensity. Madam Loraine, head of the commerce guild and a woman of great accomplishment, had a commanding presence. Her spirited personality had been instrumental in both her professional and personal life. On their wedding day, she had playfully carried Serin out of the altar, a point of course which King Alric would never fail to bring up when him and Lord Serin were arguing.

King Alaric chuckled as he pointed at Lord Serin. “Look at you, being bossed around by your wife. Such a sight!”

A sharp smack followed, causing King Alaric to gasp in surprise. Queen Serena had swatted her husband on the back. “What are you laughing about?” she demanded, her hand still raised.

As the adults exchanged playful jabs, their camaraderie was evident, this had been the dynamic for so many years. King Alric and Lord Serin never had gotten along, yet their chemistry with each other was unmatched, with them working together starting from when the previous king had set Lord Serin as King Alric’s assistant many years ago, when the two put their skills together, there was no opposition they couldn’t conquer.

Once the two had gotten married to their wives, they only had gotten stronger in their ability to lead and strategise, as King Alric had fallen in love with Serena from when they first locked eyes, much to Lord Serin’s annoyance seeing his younger sister get courted. The presence of Serena kept warmth in the heart of King Alric, and the presence of Madam Loraine had been the foundation that kept Lord Serin stable throughout the years.

The tales of their friendship and adventures could become a whole novel of its own! But that’s for another time dear reader.

While the adults bantered atop their balcony, the children below continued their heroic escapades. Ica and Naga’s competitive banter filled the courtyard as they darted around, their laughter echoing off the castle walls. Each move, each playful parry, spoke to the bond they shared, a bond mirroring the deep friendship of their parents.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the courtyard, carrying with it the fragrance of fresh blossoms and the promise of new beginnings. The boys paused, their breaths coming in short bursts as they gazed out over the kingdom. The setting sun bathed their faces in a soft, golden light.

“Do you see it, Naga? That’s Corvidae, our kingdom, the strongest of all the lands!” Ica’s voice brimmed with youthful pride.

Naga continued panting, being the more visibly exhausted of the two, before putting his finger up, “Actually, in terms of sheer power Corvidae is probably in the top five, in terms of sheer size, if we take into consideration the land inside the kingdom stretching across the wal-”

Ica sighed before rolling his eyes, “Figure of speech Naga, Figure of speech.” Ica then pointed towards the view, the castle walls standing tall, and the beautiful buildings scattered inside the kingdom. “Beautiful isn’t it?” Naga would look at the people joyfully living their lives, before nodding in agreement.

As they stood there, their shadows stretching long across the courtyard, they shared a moment of silence with each other, appreciating the view infront of them.

When suddenly, with a mischievous grin, Ica smacked Naga lightly with his stick and dashed to the center of the courtyard. “Shall we continue our battle, villain!” he shouted, his voice filled with playful challenge.

“Ouch! Wait—why am I the villain?” Naga protested, but he followed eagerly, ready to join Ica in their ongoing adventure.

As they clashed their swords, the scene set in front of us would seem to be a perfect start to a whole story yet to be told, or the perfect ending to a story that had already been written.

But my dear reader, this isn’t one of those tales. Let us glimpse into the future, shall we?

The castle courtyard, once a place of youthful adventure, now lay in ruins. Flames roared and crackled, consuming the stone and rubble as smoke billowed into the sky. The once vibrant cobblestones were now scorched and scattered with debris. Amidst the chaos, two figures stood, their breaths ragged and eyes wide with a mix of exhaustion and resolve.

Ica and Naga, now bloodied and weary, were standing in the middle of this inferno. Their wooden sticks were replaced by gleaming swords, stained with the evidence of a fierce battle. Each swing and parry had been a desperate attempt to overcome the chaos that surrounded them. Their faces, once lit by the warmth of the setting sun, were now illuminated by the flickering glow of the flames.

Ica’s dark hair, matted with sweat and blood, clung to his forehead. His eyes, usually bright with determination, now held a shadow of uncertainty. He looked at Naga, who stood opposite him, his own expression a mixture of fierce resolve and exhaustion. Naga’s quick movements had become sluggish, and his once agile frame was now weighed down by the weight of their reality.

The courtyard, once a symbol of their youthful dreams and adventures, had become a battleground—a stark contrast to the laughter and play of earlier days. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of destruction filled the air, a harsh reminder that their time of peace had ended.

As they locked eyes, the weight of their situation hung heavily between them. The grandeur of their kingdom, the days where they could simply enjoy playing games in their courtyard, now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the devastation around them. Whatever dreams they had when they were kids, were long burnt away.

Ica, his voice hoarse, repeated to himself, “I will not let Corvidae fall.”

Naga, his gaze steady despite the fatigue, nodded. “I know, Ica. Neither will I.”

Oop, let’s not go too far into the future shall we? We might spoil how it ends.

Back to the scene in the courtyard, the two kids are exhausted as they lay on the floor after hours of sword fighting. The branches they used are broken, and their parents are calling them to have dinner.

“Last one there smells like eggs!” Ica would say, as he sluggishly got up, scuttling towards their parents.

Naga slowly gets up, walking behind Ica, “That doesn’t even make sense-”, Before using his last ounce of energy to try to run past him anyways.

The sun sets on the kingdom of Corvidae, for now, at least at this moment, it has peace.