MidReal Story
Crown of Conflict
Scenario: write a story about a prince of the republic, the youngest of his family which is made up of 3 brothers and a sister, this prince is divided and does not know which family he should belong to, that of his father who are a family of warriors, or that of his mother who are a family of pacifist traders.
Create my version of this story
I am Prince Alexander, the youngest in my family, born into a realm that values both strength and peace, yet I am torn between my father's warrior heritage and my mother's pacifist trader legacy.
My father, King Edward, is a fierce warrior who founded our kingdom, leading his brothers and loyal men in battles that secured our lands.
He taught us his sons to be strong, to fight for what we believe in, and to protect the realm at all costs.
Conversely, my mother, Queen Isabella, comes from a long line of traders who built their fortune through negotiation rather than warfare.
She believes in compromise and the power of wealth to maintain peace.
As a young boy, she taught me the art of salesmanship, how to understand people's needs and wants, and how to connect those desires to the goods that would make them happy.
My father and mother were often at odds over how best to govern our kingdom.
My father believed in maintaining a strong military presence to intimidate potential aggressors and to thwart uprisings before they began.
My mother argued that an army of merchants could achieve the same goals but with lower costs and less bloodshed.
Although seemingly incompatible, their philosophies blended into a unique approach to governance that allowed our realm to prosper.
As their youngest son, I am the most conflicted between their differing ideologies.
I have inherited my father's fair skin and piercing blue eyes and his love for combat.
Yet I have also absorbed my mother’s nurturing spirit and her teachings on negotiation.
From a young age, I noticed the tension between my parents’ expectations for me, and as I grew older, it became more challenging to reconcile their disparate teachings.
However, no matter which path I chose—warrior or trader—I was still born into a kingdom where both sides carried equal weight in the balance of power.
My father is King Edward, head of the warrior family.
He is strong and imposing, with dark skin from his time spent on the battlefield and light hair from his Northern European heritage.
My mother is Queen Isabella, head of the pacifist trader family.
She is elegant and diplomatic, with a dark complexion from her Spanish ancestry and light hair from her Northern European heritage.
They are powerful figures who command respect.
I grew up in the shadow of my father’s accomplishments and the calm of my mother’s wisdom.
Together, they taught me how to be a warrior and a trader, but as I grew older, I realized that I could not be both.
I am caught between two worlds, torn between two families.
I am the youngest son of a powerful king and queen, born into a world that values both strength and peace.
In these sprawling gardens of the royal castle, I felt free to be lost.
Winter had finally given way to spring, and the gardens were in full bloom.
Vibrant flowers blanketed the earth as far as my eyes could see, filling the air with their sweet scent, while neatly trimmed hedges added an extra sense of order to the colorful chaos.
It was this order that I craved—late March was a particularly difficult month for people like me, whose thoughts seemed eternally jumbled.
Our world was split down the middle between those who believed in war and those who preferred peace.
And even now, one week after my 21st birthday, I was still torn between them.
Every year since I was old enough to walk on my own, I’d wandered these gardens, waiting for something inside me to change.
I’d prayed for some spark of inspiration or guidance, but still it hadn’t come.
A soft breeze settled on my face as I walked along an ancient stone path that led me deeper into the garden.
This far out, there were fewer flowers and more trees, their branches still bare from winter’s icy grip.
I chose a spot on the ground and sat, resting my elbows on my knees and staring off into the distance, unable to shake my thoughts of a kingdom divided.
My family had always been divided in this way as well: my father, the head of the warrior family, and my mother, the head of the pacifist trader family.
The two had fallen in love despite their differences, and they’d worked hard to raise us with the best of both worlds.
Their teachings were so different, though, and when I closed my eyes and tried to remember them all, I just ended up feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.
“A prince must be strong,” my father had said, his voice deep and commanding in my ears as if he were right behind me now.
“For strength is what keeps our enemies at bay.”
He’d wanted me to learn to wield a sword before I could even write my name, to understand the power of our warriors in protecting our land from those who would seek to challenge us.
And my mother had taught me something so different: “True strength lies in kindness and understanding.”
“True strength,” she’d said, her voice as gentle as a lullaby.
And it was something only a pacifist could ever really understand.
As I sat there, I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d managed to fall in love at all.
But then I looked up and saw the sun setting over the garden, its reds and oranges bleeding into the sky as if the whole world were on fire, and I knew there was no time left.
In just a few months, my parents would step down from the throne, and I would be expected to take their place.
But how could I do that when I still didn’t know who I was?
A leader must have a sense of self, a purpose—and I had neither.
“Alexander,” a voice called out.
It was one of the guards who’d been following me around since I was old enough to walk.
“We have to go,” he said as he drew closer to me, his face as stern as ever.
I nodded and rose to my feet, taking one last look around the garden before we left.
We were preparing for the annual Harvest Festival, a time when people from all over our kingdom would come together to celebrate our bountiful year—and also trade with people from neighboring lands who had come across the sea to visit.
I’d always loved this time of year.
The festival was a time of great joy and celebration, and we got to meet all sorts of new people, hear stories from faraway lands, and try all sorts of exotic foods that we couldn’t normally get our hands on.
With my parents preparing to step down from the throne, and me soon to take their place, it was more important than ever that we make connections with our neighbors—and keep them happy so that they would continue to trade with us in the future.
As I made my way to the stables to check on my horse, I overheard a group of soldiers talking nearby about some skirmish that had taken place along our borders and how bandit activity had been on the rise.
It seemed like there was always something happening, some new threat or enemy lurking around every corner—whether it was from within our borders or without.
And as much as I wanted to believe that strength and kindness could go hand in hand, I wasn’t sure it was possible.
When I finally arrived at the stables, I was grateful to see my loyal horse, Shadow, standing inside his stall, looking up at me with those big, dark eyes of his.
Petting him always seemed to calm my mind, and I reached out to do so now, running my fingers through his silky black coat.
He nickered softly in response, pressing his nose into my hand affectionately, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Hey there, boy,” I said to him with a grin.
“How are you doing today?”
He nudged me gently, still looking for more pets, and I obliged.
After making sure he had plenty of food, water, and fresh hay to sleep on, I decided to head to the market to see what was going on there.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets as I made my way toward the center of town.
The market square was already alive with activity, vendors selling their wares from stalls that lined the square in neat rows.
Merchants from all over the kingdom—and even from other lands—had come here to try and make deals with our traders in order to get the best prices for their goods.
I made my way over to one such trader, a stout man with a hearty laugh who had come all the way from the distant lands of Almareth.
He had set up his stall at the very center of the square, and he was busy showing off his goods to anyone who would listen.
“Come, try some for yourself,” he said as he poured a small amount of a strange spice onto his palm.
“The finest Almarethian cinnamon, guaranteed to make even the most disgusting food taste delicious.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and the trader turned to me, a broad smile on his face.
“Well, well, what have we here?”
he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“A prince, I do believe.
What can I get for you, your highness?”
he asked with a bow.
“Just looking,” I said as I made my way to the other side of his stall.
But he followed me, eager to show off his wares.
“If it’s food you’re after, I also have the most succulent dates, the juiciest oranges, and the crispest apples you’ve ever tasted.”
“No, thank you,” I said with a smile, but he wasn’t about to give up.
“Or perhaps you’d like to try some of these fine silks, the most luxurious you’ll find anywhere in the realm.
Or maybe you’re in need of some new jewelry for that lovely young lady you’ve been courting?”
I shook my head, but that only seemed to make him more determined to sell me something.
“The finest Almarethian spices,” he said, holding up a small vial for me to see.
“Or perhaps you’re more interested in one of these lovely—”
“Not today,” I said with a laugh, cutting him off before he could say anything more.
“Ah, well,” he said with a sigh, but he didn’t seem discouraged in the least.
“There’s always tomorrow.
If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I do,” I said with a smile before leaving him to his business.
As I made my way back home, I found myself thinking about how lucky we were to have such a strong—and profitable—alliance with the Goldenleafs, the largest and most powerful trading family in all the realm.
But then again, it wasn’t entirely by chance that my father had decided to marry into their family all those years ago.
In fact, when my mother and father were married, they had done so with the hope of bringing our two families closer together after years of enmity between our two people.
My father was a Blackthorn, a proud warrior family known for their military prowess and countless victories on the battlefield.
It was their strength and courage that had allowed them to conquer so many lands and claim them as their own.
And it was their strength and courage that had brought them into direct conflict with my mother’s family, the Goldenleafs.
The Goldenleafs were a pacifist trading family who believed in using peaceful means to get what they wanted.
They had started out as merchants who traveled from land to land selling goods—and over time they had managed to make a fortune for themselves.
They now had their own fleet of ships, warehouses, and even their own private army of mercenaries who guarded their caravans as they traveled from place to place.
My mother often liked to say that the Goldenleafs had never lost a single war, and she counted that as one of their greatest accomplishments.
But even though my mother was proud of her family’s peaceful ways, she also understood how important it was for our two families to get along if we wanted to continue to prosper.
And so, when she and my father wed, they did so with the hope of bringing peace between our two peoples and ensuring that they would work together toward a common goal—namely, the prosperity and well-being of our realm.
The Blackthorns had come to our kingdom centuries ago from across the sea, led by my father’s grandfather, who had grown tired of fighting for someone else and had decided to strike out on his own in search of fame and fortune.
When he arrived here, he quickly realized that the people who already lived here were far too strong for him to defeat on his own.
And so he decided to make peace with them, offering to trade with them instead of going to war.
He and his brothers started out small, selling goods at the market, but over time they managed to save up enough money to buy some land of their own.