The world had changed, and him with it.

Years ago, in the Kingdom of Spades, Alfred F. Jones had been a loyal warrior to the cause of his Kingdom, a trained soldier, general, fighting in the war against Clubs, allied with Diamonds. He had grown up as the son of a poor farmer, just one of many Rag Cards of the Kingdom of Spades, and he had been drafted to serve in the Spades Army under the old King upon his 17th birthday. However, Alfred's strength and skill had quickly caused him to rise up through the ranks and lead the army, even though he had only been 17 then, even though he had only been a Rag Card- useless and weak in the greater picture of the Kingdom of Spades, his mother had told him many, many years ago. He had thought this classification rather unfair, but he had never argued with it.

Still, many political opponents of the king had thought of Alfred as the obvious choice of a representative for revolution. He was a Rag Card, representative of the masses of Spades. They thought more along the lines of the classification being entirely unfair, and deserving of being overthrown. And though Alfred had never participated in any sort of rebellion, or even spoke of it for fear of being thrown in prison, he was known commonly as someone who was both popularly liked by the people and the army. Alfred himself only offered his support to his people, and his king, as well as the Royal Family. He had never done anything to raise suspicion to himself, except be an object of rumors, and mistakenly took up an unlikely relationship with the young prince.

And the then King of Spades knew that his people liked the young general more than they liked him, and grew concerned for the safety of his time on the throne, claiming that Alfred would attempt to overthrow the monarchy of Spades, and destroy them.

The King ordered his men imprison Alfred then, and despite how Alfred tried to escape in desperation, the secret service members ended up damaging his face horrifically, and he was rendered almost blind, with his left eye becoming almost useless and his right unable to see, for his glasses were broken against his face.

And Alfred F. Jones, stripped of his sight, his friends and family, and his freedom- was locked away in a prison deep within the mountains of the North of Spades, and in the eternally cold winter, he had wondered for so long why he bothered to live. He had never done anything wrong, and yet here he was- tortured, imprisoned.

And in the 3 years from that time, he had changed.

During his imprisonment, consciousness faded in and out along with his companions- other prisoners, new guards. Experimental torture drugs were injected into his system at random. The Torture, the isolation…the drugs…they had all beaten him down until he was nothing, nothing but a fragment

In an unfortunate twist of irony, 3 years after Alfred had been imprisoned, 3 years that he had spent tortured, starved, and alone…the king died, and his son was named the Queen, in accordance with his tattoo.

Alfred knew from the first time he was aware enough to hear this information, that this was the time to escape. The guards were talking of it openly around him, having grown complacent with their prisoner. They were waiting for the new Queen of Spades to come make a decision on Alfred's fate.

But first, he would have to be inaugurated.

The night that the guards left to attend the inauguration of the Queen, Arthur Kirkland of Spades, the guards having underestimating Alfred himself, the young ex-soldier broke out of prison, and with his body dragged down by the weight of his chains he had broken off the floor, he started on his path of blood, following the trail the guards had left unwittingly for the prisoner.

It had taken him 2 days to walk to the palace, and he knew he was ready for revenge.

And so, bedraggled and beaten, the chains that had held him down for years still attached to his body- he had simply broken free of them by breaking them away from the earth they were dug into, and had dragged them with him here- he finally arrived after miles of treading on foot through the snow of the Northern Prison, and miles more of navigating the forests with little eyesight and only his chains for weapons. He had finally made it to the palace.

Though his feeble eyesight betrayed him- as he could only see with his right eye, which in itself was rather damaged- his innate magic told him that this was the castle of Spades, just as it told him that the Queen was unattended, out in the night air that Alfred could barely feel any longer. He had long since stopped caring for the weather.

Alfred had stopped caring about a lot of things, though. He could barely see the bright castle, and the undoubtedly glowing courtyard, the whole place alight with warmth and joy, for the old king was dead, and they had a new Queen in his stead, with a new king shortly to be found. He didn't care that he would be killed for this crime- he didn't care that he would become a true enemy of Spades for such high treason.

It would be worth it to see him die.

The queen was a young man- he had only been 23 when Alfred had been imprisoned at 19. He had grown cruel in the days of Alfred's imprisonment. A familiar taunting voice that had once soothed him-claimed he loved him- oh, how it had pained him then. But he had settled since into such utter acceptance, such utter hatred, that it fueled him, and allowed him to see past the man Alfred had once thought Arthur to be.

Arthur represented everything that Alfred had come to hate about the world- the cruelty of humans, the monarchy of Spades…and himself, as well. His naivety, his willingness to trust people, his love for Arthur, his belief in that the good weren't punished…

However, again, 3 years spent in hell was an experience that was among those things that simply changed people, and it had changed him.

From a loving, bright, promising soldier, to this monster, barely recognizable as human. It was easier on what remained of his tattered consciousness to believe that he wasn't human any longer. It gave him justice in what he was going to do to Arthur.

And so, he walked towards the castle of Spades, fully intending on getting revenge on the Crown and becoming the enemy of the State they had declared him to be, not even able to see the King's mark that was now well-formed on his own body, well-within the blind spot on his left side, placed neatly on his left forearm.

XXXXX

(excerpt taken from a journal published by the Manifesto of the Beating Hearts, an anti-structured-society organization currently located in Hearts, following the discarding of the General Alfred F. Jones)

Rag cards in society are seen as useless, discardable things! And why is that, what knowledge is that based off of, other than the outdated idea that certain people are simply born with less potential, and so are reserved the lowest jobs of society. Slaves to the Honorable Cards in all but name!

General Alfred F. Jones was a Rag Card, but they hadn't known that when he enlisted sans birth information, and look how he turned out to be one of the most gifted military generals that Spades had ever known. It is almost certain, according to our source among the Jokers, that the man was discarded in order to maintain the status quo of Spades, and Cards. Labelling the Rag Card a traitor was one of the most intelligent decisions the King of Spades has ever made in his entire rule. If a card is a traitor, one will not look further to see how he defied the norm of a Rag Card.

Throughout history, there are undoubtedly others like the noble Alfred F. Jones, Rag Cards that lose the evidence of their origins and become greater than people say they ever could be. It is up to us to find these people, and show the world of Cards precisely how useful Rag Cards can be!

Let us unite and triumph!