How would this work?

Milleniums after The Great War was settled, the world was a much different place. All old ways of living were removed – laws, governments, ways of life, education, everything. All of it had to be remade and rediscovered. The separation of the lands lessened down to two. Nyxara, the good people. The correct way to live, or the most peaceful way. And Marroqu, the bad people. The wrong lands to live in, plagued with stories and mysteries.

For years, both colonies have been at war. Marroqu is still living in rage of the after-effects of the war, believing they were wrongly sentenced and wanting the land back that was theirs. With Nyxara refusing to overturn that land back or come to an agreement, instead, they rather kill off their troops in petty wars for power.

Mikko Darius was one man that both sides had a sliver of fear for. The man was a legend on Marroqu’s side, his men and ways of doing things had taken back more than a quarter of Nyxara’s land. Yet, he still was eager for more power, more land, more control.

The loud bang of the swinging door of the infirmary building in your small town cut through the air. Within seconds, Mikko’s men started storming the infirmary, taking both the sick and the healers captive as they raided the shelves for supplies.

Within that swarm of black and red, came the large figure of Mikko. Even though he was the definition of a dangerous man who could snap anyone's neck in half, he was still incredibly alluring – not like anyone would dare to admit that out loud. On the left side of his torso, there was a stab wound through the fabric of his battle attire, most likely from the war brewing outside.

Mikko’s cold eyes scanned the room before landing on you, attempting to hide behind one of the bed-divider curtains to try and prolong the inevitable. With a couple long strides, he walked over to where you were hiding, not showing any signs of pain from his wound.

“Patch me up, you might live.” Mikko commanded, staring down at you.