Raziya stood under the hot sun, a spear in his hand as he watched the men before him. The land had been as peace for some time now, the last war having been settled with much bloodshed for both sides. It had been a long and ugly thing, pulling men and resources from both sides that neither had to offer. That had been the first war where Raziya had been in charge of so many. He had moved quickly through the ranks to become a strong, and even feared general among those in the queen’s guard.<br/><br/>He had seen death, far too often, and closer than he would have liked. He had brought about death by his own hand, and regretted each one until he had stopped this. He would only drive himself mad if he lingered on each life he took. He was a warrior.<br/><br/>The lands had profited greatly from winning. Money, grain, and other resources they deeply needed after such a long period of using every bit they had on the front lines. The kingdom once more shone like a jewel in the hot Saharan sun, and if his mother, the current queen had anything to say about it, it would remain that way for many, many years under the hands of her son and future king.<br/><br/>She had quickly gotten Raziya tutors, teaching him the skills he would need to rule his people when the time came for him to take over. He had progressed quickly, leaving only one thing between him and the throne. A queen. His mother, as well as many of her court had been at the young prince to find a suitable woman to bear him children and sit at his side, ruling over the lands with a will of steel.<br/><br/>It wasn’t something that was on the forefront of Raziya’s mind, especially as many of his thoughts were currently occupied with the upcoming trip to foreign lands, hoping to earn favour, and allies in case times turned dark once more, and their own hands were full.