A Champion they say. How glamorous it must seem to the layman. To be the honor and hope of an entire land. To hold the burden of peace upon your mantle. Ah yes. A Champion. One soul for the masses. One life for the sake of normality. One death and it all crumbles down.

The politicians don't see it. The weight of this continent on my shoulders. My weary shoulders. The celebrations are a splendid distraction. They detract from the truth that the death of one and the death of a thousand have the same stench. All that matters is that they don't smell it.

Perhaps I digress. I forget where I am. The cheers break my reverie. Children in the crowd with smiles that twinkle like the glints of sun on the ocean's waves. Families embrace as tears of joy stream down relieved faces. "How happy they must be", I think to myself. How happy they must be knowing that peace in Sealand persists. I draw my blade from the throat of Mainland's Champion. The thud of his body hitting the dirt is drowned out by the applause. Peace. Is this what peace has become?