The smell of blood and sweat started to rise to the noses of those survivors. There were few that would go back home and tell the story of how the earth swallowed the warriors. There are cries in the back…men crying over their loved ones, brothers, friends, uncles, fathers. Everything was desolation, everything was red. There was not a spot free of the blood of the warriors in the sea of bodies. There was no more clashing of swords and shields, there were no more grunts of pain. The people started to retrieve the bodies of the lost warriors, the ones that had died for a noble cause, or at least that’s what they told them.
The king looked over the bodies of the many that he lost and condemned himself for bringing them to a war, a place where most of them would not get out to see their beautiful children when they came back, the smile and the warm embrace they’d receive, full of warmth and tears of joy. The sobs and crying of the people made him feel even more guilty. The people that he had lead to a war they were supposed to win, but they would have won the battle of they didn’t lose so many precious soldiers.
A sudden sound of warriors caught his attention, there was trouble. He got up to seek the source of the noise, and as he started to walk way he tripped over a dead body, the head of a man with green eyes that contrasted from his now snow white color, there was blood that was splashed on his face from the moment he was slain, and the eyes that now stared into the nothing haunted him. He bent down and closed his eyes as he said a quick prayer for this man that gave his life so they could win a war that brought nothing but death and destruction. He then left to continue to find the source of the grunts and screams when a man with a sword stood behind him. The tip of the blade was right on his back, and he could feel it piercing his heavy metal protective coating, so heavy that the soldiers could barely run or move, but a coating that never spared the life of the deathly blades that way too often found their way to the bodies of men. He slowly turned to see the face of the traitor and was surprised to see a boy no older than 18 years that was covered in the blood of heroes, he had a runny nose, puffy eyes, couple of bruises, and a forming nasty purple black eye that covered his young face. His scrawny figure and the poor strength in his arms was even more noticeable as he shook from the strength he used to hold the heavy sword and the sadness and horror he saw this terrible day. As the king pushed the sword aside he looked into the young boy’s eyes.
“Son, you-”
“Don’t! My father is dead! And is all because of you! You brought us to this war. Is because of you we lost so many!”
The king looked down for he knew very well that what the kid said was true, but that didn’t stop him. The king stepped towards the young warrior and when he was close enough he took the sword off his hands then he embraced the kid as he cried a river of sorrow and pain. He could feel the young man trembling as he flooded with sorrow when the hideous sight of the battle field that so effortlessly took the lives of men and hid it under the grass converting the blood of heroes into a new life far away from the families and the joy these men brought starred back at him with the cruel truth of life. A kid his age should have never seen something as cruel as what he saw today.
“What is your name, young warrior?”
Trying to hold back the tears and sobs of a broken child he said “My name is Peter, my lord”.
“Well Peter, I will need you to go and fetch your father’s body, he is coming with us” he let go off the kid and started to walk away when he heard again his voice full on confusion.
“For what, my lord?”
“For the burial of a knight.”