The Revolution

Prologue

"She risked everything to protect her people. He risked nothing to save his kingdom."

A barren land; thousands of soldiers lie on the battlefield...

The year was 91.34.6472.SF.

The landscape was mostly barren. The girl breathed, a heavy sigh, full of anguish and exhaustion. Her knees trembled, as if they were to collapse upon themselves. Her arms were numb, tingly, and yet, only moments before, were surging with pain. Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced herself to stay awake.

Even the wind, blowing brown and grey dust across the lifeless terrain, became still, with a last, whhhoou...

The only things she could hear was the ringing in her own ears. The only thing she could feel, was the strong beat of her heart as it started to slow. The adrenaline was finally going down, and she wanted to cry, or smile, or collapse in peace.

But... something. 

Something churned in her stomach, giving her a sense that she wasn't safe yet. But so many years of war, danger, and uncertainty will do that to her. she knew it was just a feeling.

She pushed it away, and sighed again. This time, it was a breath of relief, safety, security. All emotions she never felt... never knew... in a very long time.   

 It's over. It's... finally over. 

  Hahaha," a deep voice began, "Esmaelynn Kroft, I never expected you to be the last one standing here."  

  Esmaelynn's heart sped up, and the dust on the ground began to stir. She didn't recognize the voice, but she was alert. Something she learned from being with The Revolution. She looked up, and saw only a blurry silhouette of a person in the far distance. 

He slowly came closer, the only indication being that his image was coming in clearer. His posture was tall, strong, like a warrior or king. A thin sword was drawn, facing outward from his side, but down, as if he were about to draw it as a challange. 

Now he was only a few feet from her, but the dust cloud was so thick, that she could barely see any features. The few that she could see was long, black hair, down to his belt, and gorgeous, dark blue eyes. He had a mask over his mouth; almost everyone did so as not to breathe the raw air. 

She was panicked, but stood frozen. 

They stared back at each other for a few moments. The boy cocked his head to get a better look at her. His eyes were squinted, and sand and dust blew through his long hair. 

Esmaelynn regained her posture, but fear remained in her eyes. "What is your name?" 

"I don't think it matters much who I am. Considering whatever power I possessed before has no value now." He shrugged, looking around at the dead bodies around them. 

"I didn't ask your title, soldier. What is your name? And— how do you know mine?" She pointed accusingly, and slightly lowered her guard.

"Let's just say... we're familiar."

"You still haven't answered my first question." 

"Fine. I am King Farlaan, Ruler of the 8th Division and Underground Revolution. Your army, if I'm not mistaken." The 8th Division showed that he was of the 8th generation in his family since this direct line of the monarchy.

"...King? N-no... That can't be right. The king is no more." 

"I said 8th Division, not the 7th. Whom you speak of is my father." He removed his mask. 

"Dmitri?! Dmitri Farlaan?" Her eyes widened and jaw dropped, remembering the boy from so long ago.

He smirked. A dangerous look crossed his face, and he cackled, throwing his head back. "Oh, now  you recognize me?"