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Prologue

He thrust his sword towards the heavens as if he had already conquered a battlefield of his enemies. His mighty sword, composed of a single hard stick— acting as the blade— with leaves and twigs covering the hilt like a bush. His smile was caused by nothing short than the satisfaction of completing this weapon; his first sword.

"Fall before me, cowards! Fall before the great hero, Keon Willard!" The boy then leap from the hill, and swung madly at the shrubbery he passed before entering the sunflower fields. Keon came to a quick stop just outside the boundaries of the farm.

"Boy I swear if you come through here swinging that damned stick, I'll beat your ass with it!" A voice said in the distance. It took a moment for Keon to register who it was. It was the old man, farmer McGillen. Shocked, Keon began to back away quickly from the fields.

Keon took a breath and pointed his weapon towards the fields shouting back, "I shall retreat for now! Your heads will roll one day."

A right choice he had made; for he knew what would become of him if he had proceeded. Sometimes a retreat is a victory, Keon thought while wearing a widened grin. Only wise men, or boys in this case, know when they are not able to succeed in pushing an enemy back. Keon believed himself to be the wisest among his eleven-year-old peers.

As brave and chivalrous as Keon believed he was, he was also weak. The other kids his age have either already begun training in magic— which was overseen by the Magi Academy's Madame Eliza Poystrie— or as knights under the tutelage of Sir Robert McAllister.

"Magic is too difficult," Keon thought, "even if I can't be accepted as a knight, I have no ability in magic. I'll be tending to the fields for the rest of my life." Keon shuddered at this revelation. He had never been good at tending to the fields, as much as his family tried teaching him. His thumb was not at all green, but blackened. Anything he attempted to grow, would die.

Keon had been told that it was because of his hair color— which is a dark auburn— and his dark brown eyes. These both were considered to the village to be bad luck, when in pairs. It never really made sense to him but the folklore and superstition has taught him— and the other kids— that these traits lead to misfortune.

Keon thought, "As much as I'd like to believe in stories that are even older than the village elders; they are full of shit. It's their fault I have no friends because of those lies." Keon knew deep down that the elders were not the cause of his disposition, but rather something he, himself, has caused. Either way it's probably too late to change anything.

Keon fell backwards into a nearby pile of leaves under the villages oldest tree. The same one that the great heroes of old had infused their weapons into, hoping for one day new heroes would retrieve them from the branches. At least, that's how another one of the elder's stories go.

The elders had told Keon— and his classmates at the time— about the great war in great detail, sparing not a single detail. The Beastmen tribes of the west had begun to overpopulate, and began expanding towards the central continent. The human races attempted to settle this, by not taking their actions as an act of war and to return back to their forests and marshlands. However, the tribes then began to attack villages near the outskirts, and took the land as their own.

The leaders of the central continent, decided to declare war to regain the lost lands. Even though we were superior with weaponry, their numbers were too much for our forces to handle. So the kings of the central continent asked for the northern elven and fairy races to extend their support in this time of crisis. They denied as they wanted to remain neutral.

Outraged, King Godfrey of the Hinterlands raised support of the citizens and nobles of the surrounding nations in declaring the northern tribes as enemies of the continent. King Godfrey attempted to reach out to the Dwarvern Continent to the east, and the demi-humans of the southern continent. Yet, the same results. War broke out between the humans and the other races. King Godfrey is the blame for the escalation, after overthrowing the other lords and kings.

Five heroes emerged among all the bloodshed and losses; one from each race. Taking their armies to each side of the central continent, they held formation as an attempt to prevent anymore casualties. At the time, the king believed that the heroes had sided with him, as they were protecting the continent, and the newly established royal capital Bellford. But the effort of the heroes was to prevent any further battles between the formerly friendly realms.

Godfrey in his audacity, attempted to trick the heroes into enslavement of the other races, as punishment for going against his wishes. Ending the war, and the insanity of the humans, the heroes captured and executed the king. After that, diplomacy began to spread between the nations and a treaty was put in place.

At least that is what Keon believe he remembered. These stories had always made him doze off into fantasizing of being one of these great heroes. As much as he loved magic, he had never been able to summon anything but a small flame. So Keon had thought, "I can become a knight, I can wield a sword!" But to his dismay, it was more difficult than he had once thought it was.

Keon always wanted to learn how to wield the stave and chant complicated spells. But he knew that this would never be a reality. It will only be something he can dream of during his classes.

Keon raised his sword in the air and chanted, "Oh holy flame, devourer of life, strike my target true!" From the sword came a vortex of brilliant blue flames that shot into the sky. It began to burn away the weapon he had made earlier in the day. Keon's breath began to quicken as he threw his sword to the side. The grass began to burn and the flame crept it's way towards the tree. A kindling of the heroes' tree, and potentially the end of his life.