"where do we go from here?"

In the chaos surrounding him, a child named Archer rose to his feet, as bodies fell around him--pierced by the arrows screaming through the skies.

He reaches for the sword of a fallen warrior, barely able to wield it, he still knows that he must.

The comfort he once knew has been dissillusioned. His sins are made visible in the havoc wreaked by the enemies within himself.

Soldiers rush around maddeningly, unable to discern the orders being shouted.

Archer searches for someone--anyone--who has any idea where to go to help.

A white horse roars to a halt just in front of him. The rider is none other than the King he has known but never truly seen.

"Where do we go from here, Master?!"

"To the front lines, Archer! To the front lines!"

With a grand launch, the King sets off down the hill right into the thick of danger, where death and sadness are the only things visible from this distance.

If the King can go there, with such strength and hope... then what is holding me back? I, too, must charge to the front lines.

It is what is asked--and required--of me!

Love and Peace or Else.
-Archer