How I Became the Strongest King

Chapter 2:King of the Nation

As I worked in the field, tending to the crops and watching over the cattle, a group of horsemen thundered across our farm. Their arrival was unusual; we rarely saw riders on horseback around here. I paused, leaning on my hoe, and watched them with growing curiosity. Turning to Gary, who was mending a fence nearby, I asked, "Who are they, Gary? I've never seen them pass through here before."

Gary squinted against the sun as he watched the horsemen disappear into the distance. His expression was calm, but there was a glint of recognition in his eyes. "Those are the knight guards of the King," he replied.

I blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what? There's a king in this nation? How come nobody told me about him?" I glanced at Gary, feeling a bit foolish and more than a little annoyed. "And why didn't you mention it, Gary?"

Gary let out a deep, hearty laugh that shook his broad shoulders. "Everybody knows about the King except you," he said with a teasing grin.

I felt my face grow warm with embarrassment. Of course, everyone knew about the King—everyone but me. My world had been so small, confined to this farm and the rare trips into town. How had I missed something so important? "Forget that," I muttered, trying to brush off my embarrassment. "Tell me about the King. You've been here longer than anyone, so you must know something about him."

Gary's eyes twinkled with a secret knowledge, a look I had come to recognize. "I know more than you think," he said slowly. "I worked for the King for twenty years as the chief of his security."

My jaw dropped. "What? You were the chief of security for the King?" I tried to picture the kindly, rugged farmer in armor, commanding troops. The idea seemed surreal. "So, you must be pretty close to him. And really powerful," I added, half-joking but genuinely impressed.

Gary chuckled again, though this time it was tinged with nostalgia. "I was strong in my younger days," he admitted, flexing an imaginary muscle with a playful grin. "And I knew the King well. He's a good man—the most powerful person in the nation, but not just because of his strength."I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "Then why is he the King?" I asked, eager to understand what set a king apart in a world filled with power.

Gary's expression softened, his eyes distant as if recalling a memory from long ago. "To be a king, you have to be pure-hearted," he began. "Willing to help others, save your people from crises, and get along with everyone. A king is someone who earns respect through kindness and bravery, not just power." He paused, considering his next words. "The current King is Octavious Malfoy. He's all those things and more. He treated me like a friend, even though I was just a guard."

I nodded, impressed by this King I had never known existed. "Sounds like the perfect name for a king," I remarked.

Gary sighed, leaning against the fence with a look of reverence and a hint of sorrow. "It's not easy to become a king. You have to go through a lot of trials, prove yourself, and earn the trust of the people. It's a long journey, but if you have a passion for something, you can achieve it."I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "Maybe I could be king someday," I said, only half-joking.

But Gary shook his head with a smile. "It's not that simple, Mike. You need to pass through all the stages to become a king. It takes more than just a desire; it takes character and the willingness to sacrifice. But don't worry," he added, his tone turning light, "just follow your dreams and never lose faith in yourself."

His words resonated with me, stirring something deep inside. They also made me realize how little I knew about Gary's past. He spoke with the wisdom of experience, but there was a melancholy to his voice, a longing that suggested he missed those days. I wondered what it felt like for him to walk away from such an important role, to leave behind a life of significance for the quiet existence of a farmer. Part of me wanted to ask more, to delve into the stories he kept hidden beneath his calm exterior. But the look in his eyes told me it wasn't the right time.

"Gary," I ventured cautiously, "can you teach me some fighting skills? You know, just in case I need to defend the farm or something."

Gary's smirk returned, a playful glint in his eye. "Sure, but not tonight," he replied, waving a dismissive hand. "No food for dinner if you keep bothering me with questions." He laughed, a sound so infectious that I couldn't help but join in.

I knew he wasn't serious about withholding dinner, but it was clear he didn't want to talk about the King anymore. There was a history there, a chapter of his life he wasn't ready to share. And while I was curious, I also respected his silence. Some stories, I realized, were not yet ready to be told.

As we walked back to the farmhouse, the sun dipping below the horizon, I felt a mixture of emotions. Gary had given me a glimpse into a world far beyond our simple farm—a world of kings and trials, of power and purpose. But he had also shown me that strength didn't always come from power. It came from within, from the choices we made and the lives we touched.

I looked at Gary, the man who had once served a king and now tended to fields with the same dedication and care. There was more to him than met the eye, and I knew that in time, I would learn his secrets, just as I hoped to uncover my own purpose in this extraordinary world.For now, though, I was content. Content to learn from a man who had seen the world and chosen a humble life. Content to dream, to work, and to wait for the day when my journey would truly begin.