The morning dawn falls upon two blades.

  King Alexander and Sir Albert stand in the middle of a garden.

  The sound of running water and birds chirping mixed with the clash of swords.

  Sweat dripped off each of the men.

  “Ten thousand dead… from a force of fifteen thousand. The old rat in parliament only offers twenty thousand—to face a force five times its size.” King Alexander said.

  “The “demons” forces have taken Ikigai and started to use the town’s fortress as a foothold within our country.”

  The blows of the blades mirrored their convictions—one through speech, the other through the blade.

  The King was attacking with heavy swings and leaving himself open.

  Albert's strikes were controlled and precise, but with each swing there was guilt, or was it remorse?

  “Did I just send those boys into the massacre to gain political favor? I heard a story of the Devil once that he executed a group of slavers to save a single girl from them.

  Do you think he thinks about the men he kills for his ideals?

  Do you think he worries about morality?” King Alexander asked with deep tiredness.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Everyone worries about their actions, but some are able to lock away such emotions to do what they must.”

  Bam!

  With a heavy strike, Albert knocked the blade from Alexander's hand, and Albert drew his blade to Alexander's neck.

  “I sometimes think you would be a much better fit for such matters than I, Albert.”

  “You give me too much credit, old friend.

  No man is great when every objection seems poor.

  The only thing we can do is step forward and pray for the dead.”

  Albert removed his blade from Alexander's neck and returned it to his sheath.

  “You may be right.

  Every step could lead to destruction or success, but if I were only to stand still, then I know for sure the end will come for this kingdom.

  I believe that the parliament has been filled with the old, with the corrupt, with fools who no longer speak for the people and only care for their own capital.”

  “So what will you do about it?”

  “I will call upon the masses that live upon the walls of the royal capital and ask them if I should dissolve parliament. Created a system where both the people and myself are able to decide instead of a mere few.”

  “How do you plan on such an act?”

  King Alexander walked to his blade.

  “When parliament was first formed in this country, there was a rule set in place that if parliament had gone against those they were made to protect, then it could be dissolved. But this act can only be passed if eighty percent of the kingdom’s population agrees.”

  He pulled the sword out of the ground.

  “Due to it being impossible to get everyone around the whole kingdom, we will hold the vote here.

  This kingdom is standing on the gallows, with parliament being the rope that will hang the masses if we decide to continue to play by the rules of old bastards.”

  He raised his sword, pointing it at Albert.

  “Join me, Albert, with the heroes from another world and the people behind us; we can change this kingdom, win the war, and help those who have been abandoned due to the constant fighting between me and the parliament.”

  King Alexander re-sheathed his blade and reached his hand out to Sir Albert.

  “My friend, let’s try and create a better world.”

  Sir Albert reached out and accepted.

  Can this be called a revolution for the people, or will it be deemed a start to a mad king's tale?

  In the end, only time can resolve such a question?