Kind creators of the world, makers of the universe. Sounds holy and mighty, uplifting and hopeful, but hope barely exists in this world drowned in damned.

The Gods who bestow life and all that exist, teachings of religious extremist, and their religion: Ma Tristinity, a phrase shortened for just the latter word. A word play using the most common of language, a word that means, "The Thirteen." The name is a reflection of the thirteen Gods, whom each control a vital element of the world. Each region varying in which Gods to fully worship, but all understands to all praise the entire thirteen, including Lues, the God of Hell, as his existence is said to bring balance to the world.

The Gods are made in mythology, but individuals who are in the end of all hope, seeks refuge in figures not real, in order to feel the sense of closure and uses their existence as a last resort.

He folds both knees as he bows his head before the almighty depiction of the God of war, Omien O'thertha. An image carved from marble, depicting the God carrying a head, separated from its body. The God in armor, yet face left to open to see. Conspiracies as to whom that head belongs, some speculate, it is the head of Lues himself, being killed by Omien because of the God's evil deeds.

Stories aside, Mavrick wholeheartedly beseeching upon the holy grace, the God's wisdom, power and strength needed for their upcoming victory. Inside this temple he prays, in Henor. The afternoon sun pierces through the eye level windows, signifying the sun's demise for the day; sunset. Tristinity says that when a war befalls two oppositions, if both are religious, the prayer meant for a certain God, only listens to those worthy and is judged correct. Mavrick prays confidently that they are worthy enough for the God's cooperation. Although they are rebels, they are rebels for good. Rebels who fought for freedom against the ruler that is selfish. Inside this relatively large chapel, no one but him asks for the being's glory.

As the Art of Power are said to have been created by the Gods themselves, many living beings today worship idols and statues of these Gods. But some left speculative, as they have not seen the Gods themselves, some say it is not real, and powers exist by the laws of the world. But even so, the worshippers heavily outweigh the wise.

"A war concludes as plans and tactics overcome those who oppose. A war does not sway through miraculous means, Mavrick," as he kneels and closes his eyes, a voice that echoed through the halls, a voice familiar enough for him identify.

"Still is not a believer, I hear?"

"Was, for what it is worth. But now, never."

Mavrick scoffed and the voice continued, "For you see, a battle is similar that of a wave, in an ocean. A wave representing each faction, each opposition. Two waves whom set to clash to one another, two waves that are filled with bloodlust, and proclaimed this deadly decision for they craved something beneficial to them, whilst the enemy, the wave, exists as they too, need of that 'something' or that they will defend that thing which another wants. Those two waves collapse, and intertwine, and what's left is the result. The bigger wave has a high chance of survival, but one mustn't underestimate the brains of the smaller. No God of yours can change the course of war, my friend," even while Mavrick shuts his eyes, he can decipher the voice nearing him. And while that voice walks closer for a talk, and not for assassination, Mavrick finally opened his eye to glance at the man.

"Jista. Your choice of imaging is very... Unique, to say the least," as he sees the face of his old friend, his fidus achates, he looked back at the statue, and stood up.

"Well, I am not particularly known for my wording," he opened his arms as he expresses his humility.

"But that imaging of yours may be turned against you. You forgot one thing, Jista, the Gods are the wind, they can give an advantage or disadvantage to either wave. In truth, the Gods as wind fit your narrative perfectly."

"You really won't shake your faith. Well, as long as you don't force me into that whole thing, I'm fine with it."

"What have caused you to decline your faith anyway?"

Mavrick came up to Jista Kierre, wearing nothing but a brown trouser, and a simple tunic jacket. Jista is not the most handsome man, but Jista's kindness as a person very much compensates. Unlike Mavrick, Jista does not have a beard, he does not desire one soon. As they met closer, Jista turned around and insisted on walking while they talk.

"As you know, I am an orphan. My views on religion changed when I met my adoptive parents. They are not limiting me to religious activities, but did teach me well enough that the world functions of one owns decisions, and does not operate on an almighty being's will."

"Are your parents' philosophers?" he asked as if he's jesting.

"Not really, they are more interesting than that."

"I assume you're still meeting with them?"

"Yes, actually. I will be meeting with them before we engage with the incoming forces from Ælhelmia," Jista's voice plummets as he informs. Although he is not too worried, another battle means losing more lives, and life he cannot lose more.

"That's quite the odd time, don't you think?" Mavrick looked at him as they slow their tracks, the late afternoon sun barely lit, yet still lightens his face.

"Odd time happens all the time, Mavrick."

"Anyway, I hear it is Kreiman Lockley that will be responsible this time around."

"The man himself. What could be their strength?"

"You sound confident, and while that's good to hear, don't be too drunk with it. 50,000 is their men, attacking next week."

"Well, confidence is one of the few things I excel."

"The scout reported?"

"Indeed, the scout that acted as a messenger to infiltrate the palace."

"Are you sure you have something against that many? We can muster about half of what they will send, and that is looking through the lens of optimism," Mavrick may not oppose Jista, but he for sure does not support it truly as well. With the numbers in each group alone, optimism might not be everyone's first thought. Although he does not want to, especially now, Mavrick might not have a choice but to discourage and discontinue his long-time friend's eagerness to wage war; a fight very unlikely for them to succeed.

"You should put more faith in me, Mavrick. I can find a way."

"You are not a God, Jista," he said loudly in his face. His hand gestures getting more aggressive as he talks nervously, something unique to Mavrick. By this time, the sun no longer oversees, and the darkness of the night continues to expand. Thankfully, the chapel still has some lit candles that helped with the visibility. He continued, "As you said with your own words, you cannot change the course of war, except only with strategy and tactics."

"But I also said to never underestimate the small," Jista fought his friend back with an eye. "In this case, we are the small. And as long as the people is led by people whose minds are built for war, it is only a matter of time before we see yet another victory," Jista followed. He cannot let even his friend discourage him at this point. He walked faster, and away hoping that Mavrick does not say anymore. Yet he did, "You are not built for war is the thing Jista. You are just a blacksmith. A simple man living his best life, without the worry of war or battle. This is not you; you are the man who belongs in peace, not in damnation."

"So are you."

As Jista increases the distance between them, Mavrick cannot let this chance get farther. He must not let him continue, even if manipulating him is the key. Mavrick caught up shortly after.

"I know, and I take pride in my work; your work. It will only be a massacre in that field, I tell you."

While his friend may have a point, to Jista, he can no longer accept his own friend's distrust in him.

"Who do you think led us this far, Mavrick?" he intended to shout, but he did not intend to lose their friendship that they have cultivated for several years. The result of this argument may be what settles it all now, and onwards.

"Me!" Jista said again as he looked back to point at his chest, "it is me who made the people win against that useless king. Can you imagine, five states conquered by the unarmed group, similar that of how an ant will fight a wasp."

The tone startled Mavrick a bit; even he does not see this side of his friend too often. "But you could never see how different this war might be this time around. What we fought before are small bands of soldiers, this time is the real deal. Full-planned attack, assault, siege, recovery, you name it."

"My friend, I need you to calm down. I swear to the Gods, if they ever exist. I will win this war, because if I don't, millions of people will be under the rule of that foolish king, and that, like many others, I cannot afford to lose," they stared in silence, in the corner of the chapel, just a meter away from the doors. After all that, Mavrick decided that he cannot convince his friend, and though their friendship continues, their interaction will surely lessen.

"I cannot say any more. Take care, Jista, I'm sorry but I cannot join you with this campaign this time around. Good luck," Mavrick came close to Jista and patted his shoulder, "and may the Gods bless you."

For most of their life, Mavrick Dolga and Jista Kierre have been childhood friends. Meeting as early as their teens, together they have been working and supporting each other even now at their 30s. They were not educated because of hard life, but they managed to work as a blacksmith for many years.

In Mavrick's eyes, although times were hard and tough, he still believed that Jista is still more gifted because of his adoptive parents. With a big home settle in, and food to eat, Mavrick was happy for his friend. And he managed to not let that happiness turn into envy.

Mavrick is not an orphan, but Jista very much is. Along with his sister, they were both placed in an orphanage at age 3 as Jista's parents abandoned them in the middle of a corn field in south Pirretinable, Ælhelmia. The two siblings went their separate ways as they both had their own adoptive parents, and it is just recently that the two reunited, after 31 years of no communication.

  3 days before the war on Fetza.

Beside him are a pile of papers that was still left unchecked. Being the unofficial "leader" of the people, and now the one who established Tumidon, Jista is nowhere near in ease and comfort. Workload and signing documents he never would have imagined doing, is now unfolding before him. These responsibilities are only necessary and to be expected, as ruling a large body of community is not something to take lightly of.

It has also been two days since his argument with Mavrick. And since then, he never saw him ever again. He is a little concerned for his whereabouts, but he concluded that his sudden disappearance may be his own decision.

"Ha~" he sighed after finishing one of the hundreds of documents. His table filled with papers, inside the City Hall of the previous capital of the Ælhelmian Kingdom. Many of his convinced people, though sided with Jista's Group, it doesn't necessarily mean that they support him. This is because while it's true that the current king is an untrustworthy king, they still cannot also fully trust Jista. As to the minds of many, maybe he has something in mind that is worse than the king. Jista very well knew this, which makes his head ache even more.

Signing documents definitely is not one of Jista's expertises. Before he led the Rebel group, he was only a lowly commoner. Even as the effects of his hard work, he still cannot believe he successfully fought against the Government. Though they were still far from rest, Jista is craving it already. Amidst his thinking, a knock came from the door.

"Come in."

After the dramatic suspense of the motion of the door opening, a long hair peeked before the person, it was Jista's Sister. Jista doesn't have any family left, only her sister. He never saw his parents, but he wasn't too mad about them either. Some part of him is actually angry about himself for not being mad about his parents. He wasn't planning in finding his parents anymore, his reasoning: If they left me behind, it means that they probably won't be expecting me either. Another reason is that there was a group of people who raised him and cared for him, arguably better than what their parents would because of poor life.

"It's you my sister," his eyes shifted from her sister to the pile of papers she was holding.

"Ohh you've bought the papers?"

seeing her made him feel content. After all, 31 years apart is a long time, and though both of them are still trying to adjust, they very well understood each other's ordeals. His sister is just one of many supporters Jista has.

"Exactly, my brother. These are from Henor."

They've met again when Jista led the Rebel group, making his name known to the 5.7 million people inhabiting the central part of the continent, called the Central Region. Now she acted as his secretary, managing painful paper jobs for him, still, she cannot do all the work. She wore of a black dress that is long enough to reach her ankles. Though Jista suggested for her to buy new clothes using his money, she rejected and said to fund the money to the people instead. It was undoubtable that his sister supported the acts of her brother to make a utopia of endless peace. A high expectation, but she would like to think otherwise.

"What are did the people say?"

"About you?" She nears Jista as she carried the seemingly heavy papers that piled until her chest.

"Yes?"

She responded with an angelic smile. Though Jista was not the most handsome, his sister, Agnes, was the opposite. She was beautiful, so beautiful that every day she gets a letter from different men each time. She was a good, and elegant woman however, and did not prioritize those affairs first.

"Well, the majority did not particularly like you, I'm afraid."

"As expected," Her brother's tone can be heard dwindling as he got his response.

"It just means that you should work hard so that people understand that your intentions are true."

Jista did not answer back but nodded and wore a quick, disappointed grin instead. His sister can be heard chuckling a little about her brother's disappointed face. Though he expected that to be the case, it still hurts to not be supported by the people. Soon, he murmured.

"Oh, by the way, have you seen, your friend? Mavrick? I need him on the paperwork for the sword and weapons distribution for the masses?" Agnes asked.

"Mavrick," the man behind the desk turned stern as he heard his name again.

"Did something happen?" She angled her head forwards as she raised a brow.

"Nothing, we just had an argument about the incoming war next week."

"Incoming war? I haven't heard of this."

Surprised by her answer, he viewed his sister without moving his neck, "well, wars come and go. With our predicament, wars are inevitable. Yes, just three days from now, war will befall us."

"Isn't there about over ten thousand casualties on our side? With very little volunteered men you call soldiers, how do you think we can win?"

"This is exactly what led me and Mavrick to an argument. Please, sister, don't be like him too."

"I try to side with you as much as possible, brother, but I feel letting Henor go, one state just this once would be a better win than fighting a war, with chances unknown."

Jista, exhausted yet again. With the same fight he had with Mavrick appeared again, he brought the tips of his fingers to his forehead and began massaging to ease his stress, "I thought you understood my vision, my sister. I need to save as much people as possible from the hands of that unpredictable, person."

"One solution, I propose to you, brother: just evacuate them all."

"Unfortunately, I cannot do that. There are too many things to factor, I'm afraid. The distance between Henor and the nearest state is incomprehensible, and that's just one fraction of the many problems that may occur, but..." That caressing of his forehead would later turn his hand going behind his head as he lowered it, and finally stopping below his nose as he peeked out the window, witnessing the happiness of the people he cannot lose. Jista is a good man, willing to stand for the people, maybe even die for them, but many around him realize that losing some of that kindness is also essential for essentiality and normal human function. Having too much of anything doesn't lead to anywhere good, even for goodness itself.

"You do not need to a saint brother, people will understand," silence lingered too long for comfort. As she realized their awkward situation, she finally ended their discussion that may lead into more negative side.

"Fine. If Mavrick left because of how your argument went, then I'll be different. I'll put my trust in you, brother. But please make sure to not regret if the egregious future turns present," she turned around, and her dress she hasn't washed in days, moved accordingly, "I'll see you soon, brother. We shall talk again longer, but I'm afraid today's not the time. Everyone's busy."

Her sister left after their talk, and Jista waved her goodbye. If they were caught by the other people at the capital, doing the same jobs as them, they won't be happy. Time is valuable, and the ever-increasing pile of work is just too much. This is why they cannot waste their time on even the smallest of talks.

A lot of people that surrounds Jista had the same opinions. And all seemingly don't have any trust in his abilities. It made him think twice about their true feelings about him as a friend, acquaintance, and relative. But blame them, he also cannot do, as they have a very valid and logical point. After all, it is not easy to convince a person and change their beliefs, solely through trust, all needs assurance, and sadly, until results came, he cannot promise that.

After she left the room, Jista saw the rolled-up map of Farona at the corner of his eye. He got curious and opened the map. He just recently received this map from a cartographer in Fetza.

The Faronian Continent is an expansive plain that stretches very widely as oppose to very tall. The main Faronian Continent is one large continuous island, however, there are two islands split horizontally just at the coast of the most western part of the main island. Below the main land are another two larger islands now split vertically, West GaCotta and East GaCotta, where the infamous demon resides. And finally, there exists a small island in the south east, again very near the main land.

Before there were only eight nations, but after the rebel's proclamation, it became a total of nine countries, the Western United Kingdoms in two islands in the west, composed of four smaller kingdoms from the very North downward: Tirona, Heillendi, Evenion and Almacus. The Tristique kingdom in West GaCotta. The Holy Realm of Hidiea, northwest of the newly proclaimed Tumidon kingdom, and right above the Holy Realm is the Lorriean Republic, where a community and majority of the Lorriean race lives.

East of Tumidon is the remains of the once massive Ælhelmian Kingdom, while southeast below it is the Seeh-an Oligarchic Theocracy, the main country where Tristinity is the strongest, and where the Crusades and the Holy order are made.

All of those aforesaid countries, except for Tristique and the Western United Kingdoms, are all part of the Central Region. Over to the east houses three more nations, what splits the East and the west is the landmass' thin, yet continuously long Qroxottvoan river. Just half a kilometer from the river is the start of a cluster of nations which surrounds the Waihn Plains, and these remaining countries are not races of humans, but races of Elves and Dwarves. Ioman kingdom and Tironio kingdom has the latter race, while the Swargon Elven Empire has the Elves. In the East is also where the Demihuman settlements mostly lives. And while there are truly more to uncover within this dense and packed continent, there are more to see, including the mysterious existence of another continent far away from Farona.