Guard ate his soup while looking through the metal bars, grunted at me and changing his posture all of the time. Creased moon of the night reflected from his shield, radiating my face, but I hid my eyes in the deep shadow, slowly rubbing my battle wrinkled hands. He payed no attention at manners while eating, so he burped and threw the bowl on the table.
– Wouldn’t like to be you in the morning. I’ve been told you will hang tomorrow like a ripe plum on a tree. – he smiled wiping his long beard wet from the soup, – The more we hang of your kind, the more we are close to victory, – he said lighting his pipe he previously stacked with herbs.
– If you fell sorry for me, hand me the key and turn your head. – I spoke in cold and he laughed.
– No… You will get what you deserve.
– Indeed I shall.
– You don’t strike me like a man that’s about to swing for the last time. Are you not afraid of the Gods and the eternal fires you’ll end up in? – he tilted his head and opened one eye with rising curiosity.
– My kind only has one God, and he is empowering us to behave in such ways. Knowing he is there, waiting for his son with a mallet in hand does not bring fear, but rejoys and honor. – I replied somewhat stronger and looked up at the window above him where the dying star shimmered, the One and only being Matocians had respect for.
– Matocians are dumb shits of a horned dog. Hounds have more honor than your lot. I’ve seen how you fight, there is no honor there. What kind of a man stabs the other man in his back and calls it honor? – anger came surfacing out of him with a cloud of smoke he pushed through the nose, covering the thick beard.
– Victory is victory and death is death, no matter of how it plays. We won the battle, didn’t we? While you fight with your honor, we took your banners and broke it to make fire for the feast in our Gods name. Honor is of no use anymore, same as a youngling with a cracked shield.
– You make me sick! All of you, make me want to burn everything barring your colors! – he came close, smashed the bars that rang in an empty dungeon.
– Then the fire will radiate with warmth of our God. I would still win, even when dead. – I made him red in face and turn surprised at the cage, almost ready to pull his sword and end me right there.
– But you would be dead. No use of a dead soldier… – he spoke silently, mocking my religion.
– Same as there is no use from the dead King. – my satisfied grin shined in the light, provoking the guard to throw his bowl at me and kick dirt in my cage, but that made me laugh even more.
– Your God does not exist!!! Your God is a whore to our God!!! Our God will skull rape your God and shit in his fuckin’ rotten mouth!!! I will disembowel you, as soon as your body hits the ground, I’ll gouge your eyes and rip your jaw out!!! – he screamed, squeezing the cold metal bars, thinking it was my throat.
– That would be much nicer, for what we did to your warriors. Poor men, they walked in our toughest ranks, marched right into their death. Rivers carry their lifeless bodies now, all in chops, eaten by the fishes that your kind hunts and feeds family. Sad.
– You’ll make me come in there and bash your head against the wall. Shut up. This is your last warning.
– Would it make a difference if I die tonight or tomorrow? I’ll be dead anyway, absent steely eyes, happily memorising my last breath. It is hopeless as I will see my God, sooner or later. Whatever you do to me, he will wait for me… All covered in armor made of light, holy weapon at his side and the army of the fallen soldiers, burning in fires of death they laid upon the godless men we butchered. He will turn his son into a eternal warrior with one swing of his mallet, and I will start to glow with the fire of thousand raging stars, craving for blood.