The king is sitting on his throne with his chin resting on his knuckles as his eyes fixated on the carpeted floor of his chamber. He then looks up to see the paintings hanging on his walls that he loves. He can’t help but think that he needs to do something not because he’s the king, but because he can feel his mother land crying out his name, scared that it would get in the wrong hands again.
He can’t let that happen again; this land that suffered hundreds of years before will be buried under the dead bodies of her sons once again. That would be the most painful thing that could happen to any mother.
And to him, as a brother, he will not let that thing occur. He will not let anyone take the smiles of his siblings as long as he is alive. He furrowed his brows and completed his resolve,
