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Fearful of his own fate, our juvenile Lord is unaware of the consequences for his kingdom's future. The events that have taken place in the last few years could botch anyone's thoughts except for a Lord's.

Anything a Lord does is supposed to be done for the gracious hands of Trilyonois. Trilyonois is the name of their Creator, and like our Creator Trilyonois is the only creator, however, for a few mystifications.

"Ignorance to the touch. Light and pain with a darken soul want hurt so much. As I wish that this was love. I would fall under the enemies blades and die of Trilyonois's touch. Before I surrender, I shall fall with a million cuts."

A prayer soldiers utter before they walk onto any battlefield. They'll give their lives.

Like in Trilyonois Kingdom--similar to the Kingdom of Heaven--a person will be at peace. Wars subsist for him or her. He or she will be with loving friends and family members for the rest of their eternal lives. If he or she cowers away from any battle for their spirit, they'll have to serve Lord Spolylosys in the Black Kingdom doing continuous battles with other Dark Lords.

Everyone has to become a soldier. They must kill at least one hundred men before he or she dies to reach the Kingdom of Trilyonois. Women who decide to become mothers will only follow the path in which her husband precedes. Her husband must kill 100 men for her, and 100 men for every child they produce.

No matter how you prune the edges, there will still be wars after death. A warrior must do battle in Lord Spolylosys's black kingdom, or serve his or her Lord by amassing large body counts on Minaera.

Town Hall is an empty unfurnished room except for one person sitting alone staring into the darkness. Lord Matchbox doesn't convey to any particular moments. Conversely, he gleams into a speculation of what happened during the blizzard. The royal families resting place is in one of the far corners of the room. The covers are rosy-red made of the finest silks and satins.

The old Lord and Lord Matchbox's mother were forced to sleep with the commoners. Everyone in Town Hall--during the blizzard--witness madness in the front room, which could cause anyone to ratter into insaneness.

The doors are closed and the indifferent temperatures char icicles through the king's ice bitten veins. The covers are filthy with the dirty immoral acts of his father.

Lord Matchbox shivers, not because of the coldness, he shivers from the lunacy he saw in its walls. The void invites him to a lanky slumber. He topples down into his chair avoiding from sleeping over there. He closes his eyes.


Clear buoyant hours of darkness sooth the broken-hearts of the Camelot People. They move toward a shooting star falling in the east. This part of Minaera has not revolved in the sun's direction yet.

A light far off on the other side of the planet guides the travelers through this treacherous darkness. Their destination point is about 500,000 miles away.

The crowds carry their injured family members and soldiers. They held defense against an increasing opponent who follows them throughout a monotonous pass in a nearby valley.

A broke-off arrow sticks out of an Archer's eye socket. It plunges through the eye socket reaching from out of the back of his head. He didn't want anyone to pull it out; somebody broke it off at its heel. The archer coughs up blood begging his brother, who helps carry him.

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