In reality life is incased with its own formality; occasions of factual truths that we see with our own eyes. This world that we breed, we use assets that make us feel wealthy. We dream and we live in terminologies that can't be figured out without just a naked look. These items of principality lead us on a path of wreckage or - opposite - appreciation. Our first bicycle, our first kiss, the first time we have a fight etc or the above covetousness must that we all humans encounter during decades of vigor imprisonment.

But what if there was another world besides the one that we hold dear and love. Inside a cube shape there are four dimensions and each dimension is plighted in its own place or noted lines. These cubes are also filled with smaller cubes or living organisms. If we take a look inside of a plants anatomy then we can now figure out through science that the smallest cube of life is a cell. Now this is voiced and fulfilled with the unique track record of our scientific methodology. We now know that there are smaller worlds within us and many other worlds beyond them. There is still one social circle that still keeps well-verseing itself in the convictions of our minds. This world is sometime explained as supernatural. In mathematics and physics, the share of a space or object is informally determined as the smallest number of dictums necessary to indicate each level within it. Thus a line has a ratio of one because only one order is needed to identify a point on it. But what if the points are not necessarily straight and are bent like a circular or inert pattern. Most cubes of life are explained without edges and the edges are not edges but a figment of an edge that margins inside itself. We think of the supernatural worlds when we think of other universes this way. We all have to go somewhere when we die. But this is not suavity I'm going to tell you of another dimension that stacks its bodies as fast as it stacks its resources.

Dimension 360 is a verse where people are similar but not necessarily like us. They live like us but they have an abundance of prosperity. Imagine a place that is fifty times the earth size. Its massiveness counteracts its seasons; when it circles the sun it rotates on its axis only once each five human decades; meaning that summers are long and bright and winters are cold and dark. Half of the planet is full of ice and the other half of it is full of vegetation and migrated life. Imagine a world that is 8 billion light years away from us that can produce similar life forces.

Just like earth there is water, trees, mysterious creatures and humans. And because of the fact that technology can't advance more then what we earthlings had in the medieval ages; when there was an abundant outfit of royal families, we tend to forget how brutal that we humans will fight for power, respect and wealth.

We start our quest off in a newly built Town Hall. A new people are grouped and they have migrated toward the other side of the planet. Some of them are protesting because they need more food. The winter has finished and spring time is on its way. They must capture as much resources as they possibly can before the wars begin. More colonies like them are being brought to bed on their planet. These wars can last for the entire summer and there is no limit on how big a kingdom can get; because if the population doesn't migrate when the winter comes then the city can be incased in ice for a decade and the people will die of starvation. Even the sea creatures change direction overtime because of the seas freezing over and their natural habit is lost in hoarfrost and ice. They consider each race as barbaric and the kingdoms that are not in alliances together could be brutal rivals.

CHAPTER 1 NOURISH THE BEGGAR KILL THE CRAVING I

People are protesting around a town hall. There is an example being made of a man and his family outside; they stayed loyal to the lord of their people so now they have to suffer for it. The doors are chained up from the inside so they can't go in and get revenge on their leader. The winter came unsuspected and it veiled a treacherous trail of death and suffering on the uncivilized nation. The people of the city had to walk thirty two years in a forever blizzard to the other side of the planet where they are made to saunter out on a journey of life and death. It's a pilgrimage that every man and women has to go thru in their world; it's a calling that carries the young into adult hood and buries those that are weak and frail from the joys of a new day. It could be, because in time, they can get the most of the plentiful resources that can be gathered and harvested during the summer.

They call their planet Minaera. Minaera is turning slowly and spring will be here soon. For almost 45 years there was no vegetation and now everyday; more grass is showing out in the crevices and for the first time in ages the sun is arising in the east. They used up all their resources 2 years ago and they now blame the lord for their greedy behavior.

During that time families where picked from out of the colony every month to be devoured by the hungry colonist. The lord had to except this behavior because his traveling metropolis has run out of strength and endurance and its people have turned into ravenous maniacs. His army had to take half of the food to fight a smaller army that had attacked them from a mountain pass three years ago. None of the soldiers have returned and the lord sets weakened in his quarters looking out of a bullet proof window that has bars on it. There are weapons that are used similar to earth guns but there is no more iron resources to make ammunition for them. On a human made hill a cottage made of mud and packed ice is used for an execution zone. They are holding unfamiliar gardening tools made of stone and eighty or them, are walking behind the poor gentleman and his family. The man calls out, "Lord Matchbox!"

Tears roll down his face as he marches to his gruesome fate. He continues, "We stayed loyal to you. Please save us. Come out and stop these people from doing this. Please lord! We still believe in the principals of our nation. How and why can our lord let this happen?"

His wife is bleeding from her mouth. She can't speak because her tongue has been cut out. A man behind them has some fingers on a necklace. He pushes them to the hill while the diminutive crowd follows. It's so cold plus the wind blows a freezing mass of air every few seconds.

Everyone has developed a form of adaptation to the weather and they look like aborigines dressed in nothing but rages. The Passing Tory is over 500 pounds and seven in a half feet tall. He has on all black; to us earthlings he would be called an executioner but on this planet he is called The Passing Tory, they are the ones that prepare the people for eating.

Two traitorous swords men are at the top of the hill bearing the sign of the kingdom on their armor. It signifies a picture of a lion with wings and the words Camelot on it; except most of its scratched off and it is covered with dents and human blood. They are the ones responsible for gutting the people like fish; taking out their organs and saving them for the upper level families to eat; the ones that are now in command.

The day resembles a never ending sunset. The ground beneath them looks like sheets of soil cracked ice that gnash underneath their feet as they progress forward. The place where no one ever walks at is more on the out skirts of the trail. Brown grass has grown a few feet higher than the level of land that has been smashed on for months.

The first time in years there are clouds forming in the east in front of the rising sun and a dirt path leads to a human made dirt hill.

Lord Matchbox watches as the family is being harass and shoved toward it - nothing he could do. The man and his wife have a son and a daughter and both of them are really young. The girl is the oldest she looks around 10 years old and the boy is nearly eight. They are being held in the front of their parents so that they want get hit with the weapons from the crowd behind them. But instead of trying to walk faster away from the swarm of people they are trying to push back into them.

On the hill the swordsmen stand there waiting for them because of the big surprise at the foot in front of the hill. Some logs have been gathered from the dark forest and a big pot of boiling water is in facing distance to proscribe their doomed destiny.

The man is screaming out more. He and his family are half way up the hill, "Lord Matchbox! At least help my family! You Coward! Come out and face your people! Can't you see everything you all are doing is wrong! Let them go and take me!"

An old man from the crowd screams back, "You bastard! Can't you see your Lord is nothing more than a man! He can't save you! Your family is lost because of your loyalty to these fake principles! Kill his family first!"

The mob shouts out, "Kill his family first! Kill his family first, kill his family first!"

One of the swordsmen meets them on the pathway. He punches the poor man in his nose. He loses grip of his daughter and son.

The swordsman takes them up the hill along with his wife. The iron glove that he has on has knocked a few teeth from out of his mouth.

He lays on the ground bleeding; to hungry and weak to fight back anymore; The Passing Tory grabs him by the neck and forces him to his feet. They both walk up the hill together but nothing he could do. He reaches his hand out for them. They are kneeling down in front of the boiling water. Hopelessness sings in his heart and now he is no longer loyal to his lord. The man screams, "Nooooo!" The swordsman raises his sword into the air and lowers it in the same breath; all the way to the dirt. His sword chops off his wife's head. The man screams, "No! Not my son! Please stop. I’m not loyal to this kingdom anymore! Please, let them go and take me! They are only children!"

He tries to fight but The Passing Tory is to strong. He holds the wiry man in place. Next in line is his son. Both he and his sister are bowing near their dead mother's body. Her open neck bleeds out into the boiling water. Some other human remains are simmering on top; flesh and bones of braise human heads.

The other swordsman has another job to do. He goes and grabs her legs then drags it to the middle of the hill and begins to take it's cloths off. The swordsman raises his sword to strike again in a chopping fashion. But when he does an arrow goes throw his neck making him drop the sword instantly. In a distance downward coming from out of the darkness there is a figment figure of a man riding a horse toward their direction and behind him yonder a small army. It must have been the fight in the valley. They have returned from a two year battle. Within fifteen seconds more arrows are flying toward his direction. They bounce off his iron plate but the soft parts of his body get pierced through squarely. The swordsman falls in the pot of sweltering water. Lord Matchbox is witnessing this thru the window. Tears flow from his eyes as some of the servants inside of town hall removes the boards from off of the door.

A young lord perhaps in his 20s has a semblance of the flying tiger on his armor. A red clock is coming from his back and he stares out to everybody holding a brand-new sword, with his dark black eyes. He has a helmet on that only a king would wear. It's made of gold and diamonds. The people stare back at him but no one is attacking. He sets off toward the hill with all his attention now on the remaining swordsman. He is standing at parade rest saluting. The dead body of the women is beneath him next to his feet. Everybody goes quit.

Clouds move through the sky like zigzag lines; moving toward the darkness. The sun is blazing in the east and there are two moons close together in the western skies; in the direction where the darkness is coming from. A black forest is behind them and the shadows of a vast mountain range shadows in underneath them. Lord Matchbox is nearing closer to the hill. His body levitates up. With every step he takes he moves a little faster. He speaks as he walks. "How dare you? We had a deal not to kill any children! For over a month I have watched you murdered a dozen young youths! Don't you know they are our future? And their families, thirty of them lost because of your political anarchy!"

The swordsman stands in place. He breaks his thousand yard stare and looks toward his direction. He yells back, "You are not my lord anymore! You allowed your people to go hungry and turn into corrupted monsters! I'm no longer loyal to this lunacy! You will find your reprisal and it will be in the courts of our Gods! Don't tell me about how I murdered innocent children! Tell me how a Lord can let an entire nation fall to its annihilation!"

He's next to him now. The villagers all seem afraid as they watch this avocation acquire. The army from the west advances toward them at full speed leaving a mass of dust behind them. It's so cold that their teeth clatter together as they speak. Lord Matchbox replies, "You do not understand! It was my father that ordered those people to die! I'm a different leader and this is a new day! But you will never see it!"

It was his gesticulate action and the sound of his voice that cued his death. He swings his sword. The swordsman falls to his knees. His separate head captions into the sky tweeting off of his neck. His body falls on the dirt like aspic gelatin; inanimate and limitless; the blood flow from out of the opening of his neck and his heart slows down; it virtually stops pumping. The hero is riding on his horse toward their direction. He rides pass the people to the hill. Can't really make out what is on his chest plate because it has been filled with arrow heads. The sword that he is carrying has been broken in half and he is missing three fingers on his left hand. He gets off his horse and he walks toward the hill.

On top of the hill; the man that was once loyal to his nation is now mystified that fate has giving him his children back. He holds both of them close. Lord Matchbox says to him, "I'm sorry about your wife. I saw what happened!" He points his sword out to some open space. He continues, "Over there you can have your own farm. Now you are graced as a Duke. I will give you workers, tools and 1,000 gold pieces to help you and your families grow."

The man replies back with tearful shrieks, "Thank you Lord." Him and his family walks down the hill pass the hero into the crowd. No one touches him because he has been granted a royal position. The army is taking control and now the kingdom is under martial law. The Hero goes toward Lord Matchbox and kneels to him. He lays his broken sword in the dirt bowing his head to the ground. He is showing his appreciation to the new lord because when he left before his father was king. Lord Matchbox walks over to him and puts his hands on his shoulder. He says to him, "You don't have to bow anymore! Stand up! I'm appointing you mayor! Help me govern these people! We can talk tonight at Town Hall!"

Lord Matchbox proceeds on with his talk, "But before you take your position, I want all these names of these families brought to me with their heads on silver platters. People that started this outrages anarchy and brought months of disorder on our people! The Johnstown, Flasksens, Belgrans, Lebeltons, and the Norchins bring them to me in the next hour!"

The Hero says, "Yes my Lord!" His voice is really deep. He is in his 40s but in good shape from many battles.

The hero screams out to some warriors carrying some heavy loads of meat that they captured from a valley army that they had fault with. "Drop those sacks! You heard the king! Bring me the Johnstown, Flasksens, Belgrans, Lebeltons, and the Norchins now! I want everything that they own brought to this hill and burnt along with their headless bodies!" The warriors drop their bags and begin searching for people in the crowd.

Lord Matchbox's eyes are still full of disunited tears; they fall out by the loads. He walks toward Town Hall. The entire kingdom has become chaotic. A man and his wife are being brought in the middle of the street and more people are being pushed with them. He looks back and right before he closed the door he sees his soldier beheading Mr. Lebelton; an old man that was once his father's friend. This is a new age. And now Lord Matchbox has to make them pay for their fowl mistreatment of their own countrymen. His father would never accept this type of behavior from himself of the people. But now he is Lord and he must rule his kingdom. He closes the door and Chaos continues.

CHAPTER 2 HABITUALLY TASKS FOR DAILY RECTIFYING II

 When the darkness comes that is when the light shines bright on the other side of Minaera. It's a good day for beautiful children to be born; well on one part of the world, and a struggle for others on the other side of the planet to take pilgrimage in some of the most obtrusive repulsive weather. 

It's suppose to be a time of joy for Camelot but now even the brightest days are turning pessimistic for a nation that is supposed to be full of light.  Lord Matchbox closes the silk drapes inside of Town Hall. 

They stayed on their path but when the day changed the old Town Hall was the only thing left of this check point. Everything else was burnt to dust by an enemy army. Luckily they were on the other side of the planet when this happened and like most of the cities in this age they have to continuously rebuild and move on. To them this is called the circle of life.

He turns around. The room is filled with six large windows; oval shape at the top and compress at its foundation. In the middle of the gigantic room there is a long wooden table; the legs are short only enough for someone to sit Indian style next to. The foot of it is sinking into a wide red rug with a lion and its wings spread on it with the diction of Camelot; written in big yellow letters. But what ills on the table is the most disturbing entity; it secludes you with muddy vision of hate because in there it is always so gray. Only the moonlight gave it light until this day; the sun rising in the east. Now the colors of the room are showing it's brilliance but only with scorned dreams. 

There are stools for people to sit that ballet around the table; two people are sitting down with their legs cross underneath it. His mother and father are sitting there.

Everyone is calling him Lord and the only way to get a position like that is if you were granted it when, or if, the lord has died and given you that responsibility. The roach infested room buries its nest into the unscrupulous supper that is on the table. 

They have been there for a few months so the smell of the room is awful. His father and mother died happy at the same time. They are still holding hands.

The reason they were not buried yet was because of the anarchy going on for months at a time. They both died wide awake on the last hours of a ferocious snow blizzard that kept most of everybody inside during that time. There was no form of heating so everybody in the room had to cuddle together to keep from freezing to death. 

His father closed his eyes but his mother has hers wide open starring at the stuff on the table. Her skin is black and her grey hair has changed to a pink color because of her marinated blood soaking into it. 

Both of their faces have turned inky sable black. His father has on his lords clothing with his red cape veiled down behind him. It seems that they were never touched by occasion but left in lifeless motion for some period of time. His mother still has the Queen’s crown on her head and his father doesn't have the crown anymore. 

It's waiting for the new Lord at the back of the hall where it sits on a large wooden thrown. Matchbox walks toward the back of the room but still starring at the table. Three male servants also stand around it staring in the same direction. 

It seems colder than the outside and the portrait of death that they all stare at will burn into their souls until infinitely after next. Even in reincarnation they will remember this catastrophic exhibition; one because it is the sickest thing anyone can bare with their own eyes and two this is just plain unhealthy for anyone’s individual being. There on top of it lay a body of beautiful women. 

She was one of the servants that gave her loyalty and life to Camelot the famous city of light.

 Well her face is fair and young. But what is left of her body is ridiculously gross. Her skin is flayed off her muscles. The table is flush of blood and human secretions that spread out underneath her. Her long hair shades out across the table toward his father and mother while her ribcage has been picked on and portions scrapped clean. 

She has no more insides. Half of her heart is inside one of the bowls on the table. Thaw shall not kill. Her fingers and toes from both her hands and feet have been broken to stubs. They had to eat her alive – well not exactly alive but raw. 

Lord Matchbox nears his thrown but still he has his eyes locked on the table. He takes off his helmet, picks up the crown, closes his eyes and puts his head down then stabs the sword into the floor and holds the handle out.

 He speaks to the servants, "Take them out of here! Bury my mother in a separate grave and bury the girl with my father! It was his choice to do this. So he must be buried with his sins!"

He tries to stop it but tears ramble from out of his closed eyelids. The servants don't move at first they all been living there for a while but all of them still seem shocked. They need a little motivation. Lord Matchbox raises his head and screams at them, "DO IT NOW!!!"

The man that was outside is now carrying his son and holding his daughters hand walking toward an empty lot in a field where Lord Matchbox forthright out his hand and directed him land. The new Mayor waves his broken sword to ten workers. They are carrying some resources, wood and, some building tools. He directs them out. He doesn't say a word. He just waves them into the man’s direction and for all the commotion going on outside and all the battles they been in together; for some reason, they know exactly what these gestures mean. 

They start gathering things on a transporter, a small wagon that a horse is suppose to pull but one ­of the workers has to carry it.

The man goes in the middle of his new land. Nothing is there except a timeworn desolated ice field. Snow covers its basin and old tracks of bandwagons are imprinted in the soil. A snow cap mountain range sitting under a dark blue sky lays scrutiny over the impressive territory and in any distance there are miles of monotonous coast. The man sits in the middle of the snow still holding his son close to him. His daughter is still standing but for a moment she decides to sit down next to him. The girl grabs him and holds him close. She says, "It's going to be ok Daddy!"

He stares out into the open view not able to reply still dumfounded about today's events.

His son is also bewildered and he doesn't understand fully of what has just taken place. He says, "Where is mommy? I want my mommy? Where is she daddy?"

The wind is panting icy air ever few seconds and every time it does the girl and the boy grips their father warm body closely. But it seems useless for him because he has given up on life; liveliness is an emotion that has extinguished forever in him. 

The girl starts to sing a song that her mother had sung to her each time she went to sleep at night, "Bloody grimy eyes of mommy if you don't put away your trinket show. Slimy grimy bugs are bitter boil with hugs and kisses in the bitter snow. You will always know that I will love you and hug you so even when you stub your toe or get stuck in the heart with a wooden arrow." She can't finish it. She tucks her head down into his side and cries. He continues to stare out into the open range.

The more the day goes on the more disarrayed the people in the village get. There are only two cottages left. Both are made from stone, packed ice and mud. 

They are rounded off at the top but level down toward the back. There is a smoke chimney burning from out of the top; before it wasn't but now it burns because the place was empty but now workers are throwing stacks of wood next to it giving them some energy to cook with. 

The rest of the resources they take them in veneers and pile them near town hall. Some headless bodies are lying in the middle of the street. Warrior’s advance their spears out to the new mayor holding heads in their hands. 

The Mayor is near the hill yelling at them. "Take your spears and dig them upright near the front of Town Hall and stick those heads on them! We don't have silver platters but this will still be an amusing sight to see! You workers over there! After you finish bring those bodies and some wood to this hill! We will burn them all!" His voice is absolutely powerful; so herculean that it echoes into the walls of Town Hall.

Two people are in the middle of the street with dead bodies all around them. A worker goes and picks one of the dead bodies up and then another comes behind him and picks another one of them up; they carry them to the hill. 

An old man and his wife sit in the middle of the circle. They have on nice clothing but now it’s all dirty from being dragged in the mud. They’re being kept alive for some reason. And that reason will soon reach their attention. 

The Mayor walks toward them. He stops right in front of them and stares for a while. Both he and his wife are covered in blood.  The mayor speaks, "Mr. Belgran! How are you doing today?"

Mr. Belgran spits warm blood from out of his mouth, He replies. "What is the meaning of this? We were asleep. I don't know what is going?"

Mayor, "Well you know I was gone off to battle! I come back and things are to variant to me! You should know what is going on! Why did the Lord ask me to kill you?"

Mr. Belgran laughs and continues to spit on the ground, "You don't know? I'm an old man anyway. I and my wife lived a healthy life. We ran out of food and everybody in the village omitted their loyalty! There was one loyal family and he was supposed to be killed today!"

He spits out blood and continues, "I was the only Duke that voted not to kill him! But I voted to murder the rest of them! It's all about survival! I hope you know that these meaningless rules in this association is not really vigor it’s ridiculous! Well go about your business! I can't stand to see my wife suffer!"

He and his wife stare at each other. He continues, "Kill me first!" The Mayor lifts his sword in the air. Mr. Belgran smiles and the blade swings down separating his head from his body. His wife Screams, "AHHHH!"

Council with the Lord

Fifteen poles are lined up outside inviting death and slaughter into the front door of Town Hall. The door is open because the workers are trying to air out the disgusting smells coming from the inside. They are cleaning up things. They removed the old lord and the queen from the room already but now they have to do more unpleasant work; they take out piece by piece of the mutilated corpse of the dead women that's on the table. There are no clean rags and there are no tools for them to use for this. They use their bare hands. 

The Mayor goes toward the entrance of Town Hall. He's still wearing his battle uniform. There's no way he can get cleaned up at this point. He walks past the hanging heads into the hut passing a worker that has a hand full of human blood running out of the door.

The sun shoots red rays through the windowpane. To us this would feel like a really long sunrise but to these people it is blithesome sparkle. Not everybody gets to see an elegant day and for those that do; you better believe they traveled through hell to get there.

 Without asking he goes and grabs one of the stools from the table and walks to the back of the room where the lord is at. He places it on the floor and sits down in front of him. 

Lord Matchbox keeps his head down with his sword held out. He felt his present when he entered the room but from all what happened in the last years of his people he is feeling quit down. Lord Matchbox speaks, "You are like my father! You raised me for battle and during the times of homage you still stuck by my father’s decisions! Even now you give yourself to my service! There is no more of this kingdom, and this day will be really difficult to rebuild. The Omega destroyed all of our check points. It's going to be hard to reconstruct any of it! Three million years of work from our forefathers gone to sap!"

He's stands up and throws his sword toward the table. It sticks in the middle of it. He screamed out the last of his words. He dementedly cools himself off then sits back down. He scrounges into the thrown staring up at the ceiling. 

Statues of his mother and father are braced on the top of the window boards; they look out like devils gawking into the dimness of the room offering a painted view of another forgotten abandoned kingdom. 

The Mayor speaks, "We don't need to worry about that right now! We have to at least try to build a larger army to take revenge on our people."

Lord Matchbox asks, "How do we suppose to do that?"

He closes his eyes so he won’t have to look at the statues anymore.

The Mayor speaks, "If we put our kingdom under Truce law then we would have more than two years to rebuild our kingdom! We won’t get attacked by any other district until we are ready for battle! But then we will have to trade our goods with everyone including the enemy! We can't refuse anyone! Immediately we would have to destroy all our weapons and start rebuilding!"

He is really persisted with his words but he always screams them out. He has been through this before. This will be his second day. He knows all the rules of battle so he is giving the Lord a grand recommendation.

Lord Matchbox speaks, "Well the people are not really loyal right now. If we destroy all the weapons then how can we govern them?"

Mayor replies, "They’ll have the right to leave or not! Those that want to stay can work hard and those that want to leave can! We can't tax them anymore until we bring income into the city! We can only give them land. The ones that are not loyal get nothing! I’ll schedule a town meeting right away if you like?"

Lord Matchbox converses him, “I have nothing to lose and cinch to obtain. I'll trust you with this. We will have a meeting tonight. I have to send message to the other Lords of our plans. Please send in a messenger boy. Give him a horse so he could move fast."

The mayor stands up and salutes. It's an action that he doesn't need to do anymore but he does it by natural intuition. He replies, "Yes My Lord! I'll have them all together in the adjacent hour!" He turns around and walks toward the door.

The table is almost clean except for the girls head. A worker walks in and grabs it and immediately takes it outside. Lord Matchbox says, "Wait!"

The mayor stops and turns around, "Yes My Lord."

He is looking at the statues on the wall. He replies, "Well let’s wait twenty four hours before we take any action. Bring me some arrows with sharp arrowheads and a bow. I want to practice my archery!"

It’s the first time the mayor ever smiled. "Yes my lord!" He leaves out of the door.