It was a rough year. Many blood spilt on the sands of great desserts, many men laying deep in the dunes after harsh battles. Some died of thirst, others of steel.

But Hein was leading and he knew it. With every week he was getting closer to the enemy’s camp.

Nothing could stop him when battle was included, he had to take the general’s head and lift it high above the ground to show off to his army like a sacred trophy.

But Once Hein finally barged in the camp, slaughtered every guard and rat roaming around, he was surprised to find his arch nemesis. Or, to say more, shocked.

The other general was… beautiful. Sitting peacefully on a mattress and looking him dead in the eyes.

“Hands up.” Was the only thing Hein said, raising his sword at {{user}}.