Chapter 3:Luca

"Why son would you retreat" my mother asked turning me towards her. I couldn't get that girl out of my head. She had angelic fair- skin long hair as brown and rich as the sand we lay our feet upon. Her lips were a pink hue color. And that damn scent. I could smell it over the metallic blood.

It smelled amazing and those black eyes. I felt flames in my heart from how intensely she looked at me. I had killed their king which was her father. "Did you not here your mother" my father spouted. My eyes averted to him sitting on his throne. "We killed their king. They are nothing now. We can take them anytime we want" I smoked.

My father coughed and fixated in his chair. "You're right" he agreed. "Then we shall claim them in two days time" my mother adjourned. I nodded and headed to my chambers. "Retreat, retreat," Ronan said playfully behind me. I rolled my eyes slamming the door in his face. I threw my bloody clothes for the maids to get and doused myself in water scrubbing the blood off me.

For some reason, my heart ached hearing the scream while riding on my horse. I knew it was her the girl who held her father close. We were soldiers and had been at war with the Kenyan people for ages. Usually, I wouldn't mind wiping out people but I didn't want her to die.

I grabbed my towel wrapping it around my torso. New clothes lay on the bed. My room was built out of clay. It held different regalia of the things that I've killed. Our nation thrived on our hierarchy and glory. We lived where the temperatures were hot in the morning and cool by evening.

I changed into the light shirt and pants. I would have to influence that we may need the Kayans. I could sense a much bigger war coming. And we might need to make our enemies our friend. Or maybe much more.

When I woke up the next morning I got dressed for the annual ceremony. Where my people celebrate our kills. I draped my self in white garbs that showed my chest and matching pants. The maids bowed as I walked out. We thrived in the hierarchy. People could move up if they worked hard. There were royals who had the blood line that ran back to the first fietere king.

The nobles of families who helped the first king build our nation. Then the regals people who worked as guards, build the armor and weapons. Finally the citizens families that produced our food and held normal lives. In our nation everyone has to do their part and knowing their place helped as well.

Two guards opened the thick concrete door to throne room. Men stood at attention watching as I took my place in front of them. I looked at my father and mother ready to start the ceremony. "We know that you may be confused on why we didn't take over our enemies land. My son Luca has showed us that they are weak. We can take control whenever we want" my father voiced.

"And we shall take them over-. I cut my father off clearing my throat. His eyes flickered to me and I gave a shake of my head. "Uhh....Let us start with the ceremony" he yelled. Our men shouted with glee as the maid brought in the ceremonial blade. They gather behind me in a line. "First my son. For killing the king piercing his heart" my father smiled proudly. He grabbed the knife making a small cut on my left chest.

I didn't hiss nor tremble. I turned around to everyone showing my mark. This was tradition the mark of our killings proudly shown on our body. And my body had gotten many since the age of nine. I walked to my mother as she hugged me. The rest of our men went and some moved up hierarchy stations.

When everyone was dismissed the guards shut the door leaving me with my parents. "Please explain why you interrupted your father" my mother snarled. I took a deep breath closing my eyes. I opened them looking to my father who looked ten times worse than normal. "I think we should leave them be" I spouted. "Are you weak boy" my father quipped. "No father" I said clenching my jaw.

"Cause I sure as hell didn't teach you to be weak. You shall be the next king of our people and you utter this nonsense" he spilled. My chest puffed and I took a step toward him. "I'm far from weak" I said darkly.

"We have killed their king. Their weak. We should be more focus on the Bescle.I know they have sent threats. They have cut off their resources to us and I know they want our land. So, instead of trying to kill the people we hate. Why don't we focus on the people who are truly at threat. Maybe even get them to give us resources and we tell them we won't hurt them" I concluded.

My father paced thinking it over. "It is great idea" my mother commented. My father grunted sitting back in his chair. "Fine, but we won't be using resources from the Kenyans". I bowed and left the room. Heading outside I smiled. I would make a way to see that beauty again. Or without my father's help.