In the time of setting suns, a young man stood perched on a balcony. Arctic eyes scanned the area his overlook gave access to, a never-ending panorama of the country. Fall had taken nice to this rural area. Bright orange and red leaves fell like elegant brushstrokes, creating a marvelous painting on the ground. The trees still had a ripe amount of leafs still clinging, making them still plump and inviting. The rivers and streams ran with crystal clean water through the forestry, creating a gentle evening song. The villages filled from cottages, shops, and farms were quiet and at peace for the afternoon; the young man could even see the lights beginning to rise from the candle-light street lights.
Everything was perfect. It was all a scene from a story book, and it was all his to take in. He took a deep inhale of the crisp autumn evening and nearly felt a cord being plucked from his heart. This was the country from where he dwelled, and from what he loved. But despite every stunning attribute of his sights, the young man was in a worse mood than before he stepped foot on this balcony. Nothing could alienate the sour feelings striking through his near furious thoughts, not even his beautiful country. It was all due to just one small phrase on a piece of parchment:
"The arrangement is to be set."
The young man standing on the balcony that evening was none too ordinary of his time. His name was Mihael Keehl (or Mello, as he preferred), age twenty-three. Mello had been the first and only son bore to the Keehl family, the current reigning royalty of the country. He was strong and powerful, both physically and mentally. His intelligence was beyond any of his instructors, which left his quick to think for any situation. His personally was fierce and while at some times abrasive, Mello was passionate. Everything he cared for was held tight to, and never did the male waiver in his loyalty. Mello was a true pride to the king and queen, and especially to his country. Everyone no matter the age adored Mello, and there had never been a single fear for his future reign. He had trained so hard through his life to make it to this point, so much so that things were beginning to line up perfectly. His father was planning to abdicate the throne because of Mello's success and the council was on the breaking point of allowing it. By summer he would be King, and he could begin his time to be one of the greatest rulers his country has seen. That's how it should have been, but fate had other plans, which brought everything back to the letter sitting on the desk against the wall.
Mello pushed himself away from the banister, walking through the open glass doors back into his bedroom. He stood above the letter, and yet another spike of dread passed through him. While there were many perks being the only heir to throne, there were quite a few fallbacks as well. One in particular was, if need-be, Mello was a valuable offering to another country.
Slyan was a strong, solid country. There was very little poverty or crime, and all villagers were happy and taken care of. But if with all their success with those who live there, their country was small, and not well off in terms of an army.
Their soldiers were loyal and worked hard to protect them, but their size alone could mean automatic defeat with most countries that were currently challenging them. One kingdom in particular had threatened attack for months in hopes for their land, and something had to be done.
The king Illarion and his council were working hard to preserve their land, reaching out to lands in a chance to gain their assistance. They contacted lands both neighboring and lands further out of their reach. Several that were more than large enough to assist replied of their possibility, but Sylan's monetary offer was not good enough for them to accept. Others were unable due to illness and even wars of their own. They were running out of options, and things because to look grim.
King Illarion was close to admitting defeat just for the safety of his people, but Mello never had any fear. He demanded to his father that their country would pull through, as there were worse times before. No other party was necessary. But, at the very last moment, a request came that the King nor the council expected.
There was another country, one that Sylan never considered. Their realm was four times their size, and their army was the same. They were the country known as the one with no weak point. Saiko was held by the Yagami family, and they were a true force to be reckoned with; which was why it was such a shock to have received their letter.
Immediately, a meeting between two countries heads and their council had been placed. Mello, still only being a prince was not allowed into such a private conference, but he waiting outside of the hall for hours until the doors came open. The first one to come out of the hall was Light Yagami, King of Saiko himself.
Within just a few seconds of his encounter, Mello could feel the natural power he exhibited. He looked younger than his father, and while he still had signs of some age, overall he seemed very healthy. His clothes were of the finest quality, with more gold than Mello ever thought belonged on a piece of clothing. His guards and council followed him like ducklings in a line, like their very thoughts would cease if they lost sight of him. It was the upmost sign of respect, respect that he looked to deserve.
In just those few seconds, Mello caught the glance of him specifically. Their eyes actually met, and instantly the other smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that held charm, esteem, and security all in one glance. And then he was gone, walking down the hallway with his head held high until he could be seen no more. King Yagami was the upmost of what a King should be, he knew that from barely five seconds of encounter, and for some strange reason Mello couldn't stand it.
The very moment that it was possible, Mello charged into the conference hall where he father was still speaking with his assembly. The King saw his son coming and sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. "Mello, now is not the—"
"— What arrangement did he request, father?!" The young blond shouted, both hands down on the large oak wood table as he looked with wild eyes towards the Illarion on the opposite side. "What does Saiko want from Sylan?!"
His large voice boomed through the large room, and everyone's eyes were suddenly on him. The council members went into a whispering frenzy, while the King Illarion seemed to be coming up with his own words silently. If there was one thing he hated it was to be left without information, and this was the most important of it all. Mello's hands curled into fists on the table, and he leaned forward, none to happy. "Father, tell me!"
Again, the members whispered to each other, some nodding their heads while the others furiously shook them in denial. The one sitting at the head of the table tolerated the sound for a few moments before his hand went up, and instantly there was silence. "Leave me alone to talk to my son." The low, rumbling voice spoke smooth, and calm. It had every man standing to attention and filtering out of the room within a minute, leaving the door to echo in their departure.
Father and son exchanged looks from different sides of the table, and the suspense was something unlike anything Mello had felt with his father before. Illarion gestured to the seat Mello stood over, "Sit down, son. There's no need for such dramatics. Why don't we wait until your mother can be here as well."
"…" The young prince reluctantly agreed to sit, slowly sinking down into the wooden seat, if only to move on to what he wanted, ignoring the rest. "Why are you being so secretive? All I want to know is what they want from our home!"
His patience was beginning to grow increasingly thin, especially by the serious look his father gave him. Mello tried to think of anything that would cause such a face, his right foot tapping against the floor rapidly. "...Do they want money from us? That greedy snake! Surely such a large country would need nothing of the sort!"
"It's not money, my dear boy." The elder assured him, but his face did not shift with any less concern. He was sifting through documents in front of him, and Mello noted he careful movements due to freshly signed ink.
The answer did nothing to aid in Mello's curiosity nor his confusion. There were little other prospects in which countries would negotiate with. Because of the request of Sylan and Saiko's size it was an obvious that it wasn't land they were after. Money was out of the question as answered by his father, and both lands shared the same exports so their was no help with such either. "I don't understand." Mello demanded, speaking almost through his teeth. "Then what is it?"
The tension grew as silence was exchanged once again. Illarion sat down his papers, letting out a long sigh. He took a long look at his son, his eyes filling with a hint of distress that only his son could read. "… I want you to understand that your loyalty to our country that you have been brought up to serve has made your mother and I the most proud parents that have ever lived.
"And even as the proud father I am," He continued, "I still have an obligation to uphold safety and peace for Sylan, even if it means doing something I know you won't like."
His father's words had taken Mello off guard, stumbling to understand what he had to do with anything. "I—"
"Mello." The Ruler spoke his son's name of endearment, and immediately Mello knew this was much more serious than he anticipated.
"You are arranged to be married."