Our General stood there, in front of his men, turned with his back at us, while looking at the battlefield we just won. We were breathing heavily, tired of fighting that lasted for two days. I moved warm sweat from my forehead trying to hold myself up in respective manner. It felt hard to stand on the trembling legs that were slowly betraying me. I held myself up with a painful grip by the knee, moved flies from the dripping blood that ran down my arm.
Commander had a sad expression on his face that remained unchanged by the view on the corpses laid in the field where vultures had a feast. Flags fluttered on the wind, right there, in the hills of grass, creating a unique sound in the silence that consumed the space we stood on. There they laid, our brothers and sisters, intertwined with the enemy bodies, their weapons plunged into the dirt. Our only banner signaled the victory as it was pulled up with a newly added crown on the crossed swords.
Two slaves brought a chalice on a silver plate, and the second in command led a convoy of men carrying a crate. They stopped at the right side of the General and saluted, then the demi-commander bowed while opening the crate, where the General threw his gaze on, and hid his face. Sobs and tears fell on the ground for a second. It hit us as a surprise and silenced the conversation among men, then the General whipped his watery eyes and gasped. He placed his hand in the crate and pulled a fresh cleaved head of a king, that stood in our way.
– We have won, but we have broken our forces. – the General spoke in shame, copping not to burst in tears, – You stubborn goat! – he yelled and kicked the crate, then he gently placed the head back in the wooden box.
– Permission to speak Sir. – second in command spoke holding his hand in air as he wanted to approach the General, but held himself in the spot, – Should we send a messenger to inform the Imperator of our victory?
– No! You don’t send no one to Kiaramat! He can choke on the impatient waiting and old men’s advises, that made his mind rot! – anger radiated from the General and his finger pointed at the demi-commander who watched the ground, – I have defeated a better man than me! He was better than me and the Imperator put together! You send no one. – he said and snatched the cup filled with wine, then he turned it’s bottom and spilled the drink, looking at the process through the eyebrows, – Danm be the Imperator and the commands he provides. Damn be the Kiaramat that made me kill my own SON! Damn be this day, when righteousness fell under the pride! Damn be those that have risen arms against their own blood! Damn be those that think they are better than their enemy! – he emptied the whole cup and threw it far into the death covered landscape.
And some classic stories for you.