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Rated: 13+ · Other · War · #1669287
Tragic War and Unavoidable Deaths
         The overwhelming view of the fant-fiction world is that there is “good” and “evil”. Some rare few authors may throw in a “neutral” or perhaps even a few different combinations of each. This, in my opinion, has never provided the depth, breadth, or length required to fully engage the human mind.
         It is with this in mind that I sought to write this novel. Most assuredly, there is indeed a point of perfection, even a point of ultimate corruption, but it is my firm belief that no human, regardless of race, creed or religion has everything (even their own God, gods, or beliefs) figured out.
         I have spent several years studying, within myself and in the occasional scribbled note, people. But even with this, it should come as no surprise that there will be many things that surprise me and that I cannot, in any way, comprehend.
         Despite my profound belief that I, as a human with humanities beliefs, will never have the complete perspective required to gain perfection in this attempt to portray a vast panorama of characters and personalities, I will attempt to do so to the greatest depth possible.
         Thus I have decided to write a book unlike most others. This will not be a short story, not a quick afternoon read, or even a lighthearted novel. The purpose, indeed my only true goal, is to write a book with characters that are “real”.

Chapter One
         Armies flooded the land. Grim-faced soldier, none with a real concept of what they were ultimately fighting for, each side claiming to be in the right, hacked into each other with lust that seemed nearly animalistic.
         Blood was shed, mothers and young widows wept all across the world, for the battle that the sons and daughters fought was not their own. Yes, it was a necessary fight, for who else would defend their views and rights, and no land could expected to surrender what they viewed as rightfully theirs.

The Rights of Conquest and the Honor of Battle
Loncis- The Vantrian High City

         The council had met to determine the best course of action, there was large scale activity on the border. Raiders in numbers unheard of previously were pillaging the coast, indeed it seemed that a full scale assault force in the thousands had landed and started marching in-land.
         And so, the council decided that this was, indeed, an act of war. Naturally, it wouldn't be them who went to fight, for they paid soldiers and organized standing armies to do this for them.
         It was one of the soldiers who had brought in the word. He had killed his mount to get the news through in time (it had literally collapsed and breathed its last right at the gate). The message he carried was read with tears streaming from his eyes and leaving dirty paths down his cheeks... “Sirs and Ladies of the council, it is with great dread I bring this news. The 3rd  Standing Army, of over ten thousand soldiers and cavalry, stationed under General Trobacus has been wiped out to the man. It appears that Darinthian raiders have attacked, for the first time in know history, in massive force. It is understood that the duty of being a soldier is to sacrifice one's self for his country, and this we have done. The man before you, is without a doubt, the last man alive from this standing army. Do not shake your head and talk of the impossibility of this thing, it is most certainly true. In order to give you proper time to respond to this perceived threat, we marched out from our stronghold and attempted to break through the attacking force.
         “The ships carrying the raiders were not spotted until it was too late due to heavy fogs and rain in the area.
         “By our general estimate, over three-hundred thousand Darinthians have landed on our shores at this, our one western stronghold. The enemies are, even as I write this, encircling Haltoft. I am afraid you may never get this message, but we owe it to you and the people of Ventis to try, even though it, undoubtedly, has cost us our lives.” The message ended and the entire council of three-hundred members sat in stunned silence. Many of them had friends or family stationed in the 3rd, and the loss left none unaffected.
         The messenger, a young man probably not even out of his teens, scanned over his shocked audience and with shaking voice said, “It is to my great shame, I acknowledge that I am the only survivor. For, as I rode away and passed through the enemy lines, I couldn't help but risk one look back. My brother and father were there you see, and I have no other kin. And... as I... as I watched, the entire army was cut off from the main gate from which they had charged. Once I got far enough away I turned around once more. As I watched, I saw the general on his horse take an arrow through the throat and go down.”
         He shuddered and seemed to shrink into himself, lost in his memories of horrible violence, and more tears streamed anew, “Blood was sprayin' everywhere, so many people were dead, and I watched as the rest of the army was destroyed to the man and couldn't do anythin'.  I couldn’t do anything at all. I had to leave to leave to get you this message, but I wish I wouldn't have had to... for without my friends and family... I really have nothing left.”
         Before anyone could stop him, he pulled out a dagger and drove it through his own heart.
         No sound was heard except for the dull clink of steel as the blade tumble from numb fingers and his body slid to the floor. His life's blood slowly spread beneath the body and expanded away from the man who had, just a few days before, watched everything about who he was die a cold and gruesome death. In the tortured stillness to follow, each member of the council saw the country they loved fade to grey. The only thing left of color was a red pool of blood, shed so sadly by one so young.
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