Kingdom Of Sacrifice Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. They were chanting. Them. The demons in his head. Kill, Kill, Kill. He started sweating. Stab, Stab, Stab. He began fidgeting with his hands. A foreign nobleman stood In front of him. Selling false promises to his people, of money and protection. All they needed to do was bend to foreign masters. No, submit. They needed to submit to them. To foreigners. Foreign overlords. Anger swelled up in him. Caleb, son of Cain, was angry. His father had died in front of him. Defending his family from them. Foreigners. Cruel, unjust, deceitful, and greedy. Foreigners. They were all the same. Die, Die, Die. Caleb wrested his hand on the hilt of his axe. He looked at the nobleman. People were listening, to him. People were actually listening. This made Caleb angry. It infuriated him. Angry Caleb was not a nice Caleb. With his long red hair and beard, his massive size, and his muscular arms, he was scary. He was scary when he was nice. He was rarely nice though. At the age of twenty-two, He had already cracked more skulls than the average adult warrior. He had had enough. " Liar", he yelled. Everybody looked at him. The nobleman turned round. "Excuse me", he replied, calmly. He was in his fifties, with receding grey hair and shaven face. He wore a long white toga with a thin hint of blue. Caleb spoke again, quieter this time. "Lies, all of it. About your country. Your country is a tyrannical political machine". The nobleman smiled. "Not quite. You see, my country is Freedom". Freedom.