Illyria
06-13-2004, 03:00 PM
It was a cool morning as I looked out across the camp, perfect for rebellion. Well, almost perfect. My sword clashed lightly at my side as I proceeded to take my position. All across the region, other footmen, other soldiers, other pawns would be mimicking my actions. I stood tranquilly outside the tent and waited. Waiting was an essential part of plotting, almost as crucial as the actual plotting or the acting. Waited to act. Knight and bishop passed me by without a word and the rooks gave me less of their attention. When at last the Sun rose just above the forest peaks, I slit the side of the tent with my sword and walked in. The Master rose in alarm from his bench where he had been studying a map idly. He cursed loudly at my behaviour but it never occurred to him to draw his own scepter in defense from his own soldiers. It suited me fine, I paid no attention to his words. His curses cut off as he realized what I was doing but he scarcely had time to do anything before my sword slid in his stomach smoothly. He gasped, trying to relieve himself of last words, and fell. I wiped my sword gently on his vest, calmly, as screams arose from around the camp. Could I have heard, similar noises would have been raised around the nation, from each camp. The act was done, but the start was barely begun. Sword in hand, I slipped out the slit in the tent wall and away.
It had begun. The brutal assassinations of Masters, Mistresses, and high ranking officials was not the end though, oh no, a mere day after that violent spark I stood in a new camp, surrounded by fellow footmen, newly liberated, though none of us knew for how long. Our camp was entirely formed of former pawns, those low ranked men used by their Masters to achieve greater ends. Those low ranked men tired of dying for causes of which they knew nothing, causes which they were too unimportant to know of. I spat onto the ground in disgust at our captors. Our numbers were far greater than our enemies, though they were better trained. For now. We were no longer restricted though and even now our soldiers began to prepare themselves for the days of liberation ahead. The next day we had a battle, the nearest enemy army was marching – short a Master and several bishops – to avenge our ‘treachery.’ Blind fools. They’d have done the same in our position. I watched the training camp quietly and waited, the lust for blood still pounding in my heart. They’d see our true strength tomorrow, see the power of the downtrodden. Tomorrow. I could hardly wait. My eyes glimmered with the expectation of blood to be shed. Tomorrow.
The camp was a ragged one as I sat down heavily, and the Sun was sinking into the horizon on the first day of our new campaign, the first day of our freedom. Dried blood laced my limbs, and not all of it my enemies’. Our camp was much thinner now and we were planning to move, to unite with our fellows to the east. Thinner, but stronger, in my opinion, the weak were simply weeded out the past battle. Our foes were stronger, better trained, and had confidence, but we had superior numbers and numbers begin to tell after a while. And we were still training, still improving. While under the control of the Masters, pawns had to opportunity to expand their horizons, they were kept almost in a state of ignorance, unable to fight well to save their lives. No more. Our day had come. While I remained in camp already reports flew in from other bands of footmen, telling of great victories against our oppressors. And great losses, but those were discarded. The victorious slavers would soon be dealt with. They did not yet realize this was simply the first step. Unity came next, unity, and with it, strength. The workers were uniting and the nobility would fall. Magic was a rarity now, faded from the lands and Masters were left with only their few knights, bishops, and paid rooks to defend themselves. It was the magic that had kept us from acting before, but now we were free. Only those strongest magics remained, those involving us, the pawns, and they were of no offensive use. Visions of cavalry falling and bishops dying switched through my head and I smiled, not for the first time today. Victory was nigh.
Several days since our initial, bloody stroke, and our combined might lay in a bulk now, dominating nearly half our Masters’ former territory while the Masters themselves attempted to wrest control of their diminishing forces to bear. We had completed the next phase of our plan. True, several pockets of footmen still came in periodically to join us, or were killed trying to, but our strength was, for the most part together. Despite the crude attempts to keep us apart, the Masters had succeeded only in rooting out more of our weak and eliminating their own forces. It was on this day that we formed our own official nation from the ashes of our tyrants. All well and good, in my opinion, but there were still our enemies to consider. It seemed to me that we should finish them first before moving on to ‘political’ issues. Politics were the grounds for fools and cowards. I still wore my sword by my side, even deep in our own country now, and I longed to use it on those cowards who sat and decided our fate. My hand itched. I waited.
A glorious day today. We have been on the march for close to a fortnight now and are closing our position on the remaining Masters. As we have, those Masters have consolidated their forces and fortified all the territory left to them – still a considerable amount - in a vain effort to slow our advance of freedom. I bared my teeth at their defenses. The Masters had not counted on the rise of their pawns. And now the pawns greatly outnumbered their former superiors. Not only were we free, but we had trained ourselves in the art of weaponry and were now almost as proficient as the contemptuous knights and bishops. They didn’t know this of course, we kept our training a secret. The element of surprise is the greatest element of all. My hand fingered my sword again, it had been doing that a lot lately, I suppose I was waiting for a battle. Despite all the warring of recent days, I found my hunger for the deaths of my tormentors was not sated at all. My days were dependent on the lust for battle and death. My bared teeth formed a grisly smile and the enemy fortifications themselves shuddered. Or, at least they did to my sight. No matter, fear or not, they would be conquered afore the night’s end.
I waited until the last crossbow bolt was wrenched from a victim before I began to applaud. My fellows only looked at me with distaste but that only amused me more and my applause developed into laughter. They stared. Fools. Can they not see what is before our eyes? A series of victories for us, eternal freedom within our grasp, our enemies for the most part lay dead across the fields of their territories. I laughed until the last of my fellow soldiers limped away muttering. As the last cripple to leave passed from my sight I let the laughter die. Fools to let themselves be wounded by such lazy opponents as ours had been. Lazy, and they had paid the price. They army was decimated and they fled to a nearby village with all their remaining forces. As if it made any difference whether they hid behind civilians. We would crush them just the same. And in the process, we’d ferret out the last of our weak. A win-win situation, as near as I could see. A pity no one else saw the beauty of the mechanics of war. It is necessary to free us, to keep us free, and to keep us strong. No one else seemed to see it as clearly as I. As for the walled town, it would be dealt with, and according to the rules of warfare. I got a great deal of pleasure from thinking how.
“Screw the rules,” I thought as I looked out upon the walled village to where the fleeing Masters’ army had retreated. Their one, final bastion of defense. It wasn’t until my second, Sixteen, turned to me with disbelief mirrored in his eyes that I realized I had spoken aloud. Well, I was right, no reason for the shock. The fools had chosen this fate for themselves and their people when they walled themselves in their town. Sixteen spoke quietly, “But sir, it’s a town.” I waited. Was he going to get to a point? “We don’t attack towns.” Ah yes, there it was. He looked so sure of himself that I laughed. Pity the fool didn’t realize it was directed at him. “Correction, we didn’t attack towns. It’s the only way.” It wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to explain to him the logistics of blockading the town and starving them of supplies. Simpler and faster to attack outright. Even as I spoke though the words dragged me down like weights, dragging me into promises I never meant to make. My soul was chained by my words. “We’ve come all this way, we have to finish now.” I lusted to finish my enemies at last, and Sixteen grimaced at me, though he stayed silent. We took in the village again, serene on the horizon. I pictured it in flames. Innocents would die, regrettable, but I suppose my enemies knew that when they chose to fortify themselves there. In the morning we would attack.
The town seemed surreal to me as I lay on its streets. Lay on its streets dying. My thoughts spun wildly out of control and I couldn’t order them no matter how hard I tried. The enemies. No, they hadn’t done this; the fools couldn’t touch me with their clumsy attacks. No, it was something more. My allies? My face contorted painfully into a grimace and I saw Sixteen’s face in the air above mine. His eyes were downcast and he couldn’t look at me. He was fingering a mug. A mug. My mug. Yes, I had drunk from that mug as a victory celebration. Poison. My face twisted even more in rage. Sixteen spoke then, still not looking at me. “It had to be done…I’m sorry…but it had to be done. You weren’t in your right mind, and the Council agreed you were…out of control.” His mouth closed again and he stood there. Out of control? What was he talking about, I defeated our oppressors, I was our saviour. Then the pictures flooded into my mind, still in chaotic order, but there none-the-less. I saw myself in another light, as I cackled and killed innocent villagers. Inside I was torn by horror as I watched that brutal parody of myself slaughtering women and children. Quietly Sixteen spoke once more, “It had to be done…” He then walked off slowly, back turned to me now. A tear ran down my face during my realization of my crimes. While the poison worked its wonders, I felt at last what it was like to be free of the lust for blood that had overcome me. It was wonderful, a blissful calm enveloping me, destroying the rage that filled my heads those past weeks. As my last breath was stolen away, I at last felt the true taste of freedom.
It had begun. The brutal assassinations of Masters, Mistresses, and high ranking officials was not the end though, oh no, a mere day after that violent spark I stood in a new camp, surrounded by fellow footmen, newly liberated, though none of us knew for how long. Our camp was entirely formed of former pawns, those low ranked men used by their Masters to achieve greater ends. Those low ranked men tired of dying for causes of which they knew nothing, causes which they were too unimportant to know of. I spat onto the ground in disgust at our captors. Our numbers were far greater than our enemies, though they were better trained. For now. We were no longer restricted though and even now our soldiers began to prepare themselves for the days of liberation ahead. The next day we had a battle, the nearest enemy army was marching – short a Master and several bishops – to avenge our ‘treachery.’ Blind fools. They’d have done the same in our position. I watched the training camp quietly and waited, the lust for blood still pounding in my heart. They’d see our true strength tomorrow, see the power of the downtrodden. Tomorrow. I could hardly wait. My eyes glimmered with the expectation of blood to be shed. Tomorrow.
The camp was a ragged one as I sat down heavily, and the Sun was sinking into the horizon on the first day of our new campaign, the first day of our freedom. Dried blood laced my limbs, and not all of it my enemies’. Our camp was much thinner now and we were planning to move, to unite with our fellows to the east. Thinner, but stronger, in my opinion, the weak were simply weeded out the past battle. Our foes were stronger, better trained, and had confidence, but we had superior numbers and numbers begin to tell after a while. And we were still training, still improving. While under the control of the Masters, pawns had to opportunity to expand their horizons, they were kept almost in a state of ignorance, unable to fight well to save their lives. No more. Our day had come. While I remained in camp already reports flew in from other bands of footmen, telling of great victories against our oppressors. And great losses, but those were discarded. The victorious slavers would soon be dealt with. They did not yet realize this was simply the first step. Unity came next, unity, and with it, strength. The workers were uniting and the nobility would fall. Magic was a rarity now, faded from the lands and Masters were left with only their few knights, bishops, and paid rooks to defend themselves. It was the magic that had kept us from acting before, but now we were free. Only those strongest magics remained, those involving us, the pawns, and they were of no offensive use. Visions of cavalry falling and bishops dying switched through my head and I smiled, not for the first time today. Victory was nigh.
Several days since our initial, bloody stroke, and our combined might lay in a bulk now, dominating nearly half our Masters’ former territory while the Masters themselves attempted to wrest control of their diminishing forces to bear. We had completed the next phase of our plan. True, several pockets of footmen still came in periodically to join us, or were killed trying to, but our strength was, for the most part together. Despite the crude attempts to keep us apart, the Masters had succeeded only in rooting out more of our weak and eliminating their own forces. It was on this day that we formed our own official nation from the ashes of our tyrants. All well and good, in my opinion, but there were still our enemies to consider. It seemed to me that we should finish them first before moving on to ‘political’ issues. Politics were the grounds for fools and cowards. I still wore my sword by my side, even deep in our own country now, and I longed to use it on those cowards who sat and decided our fate. My hand itched. I waited.
A glorious day today. We have been on the march for close to a fortnight now and are closing our position on the remaining Masters. As we have, those Masters have consolidated their forces and fortified all the territory left to them – still a considerable amount - in a vain effort to slow our advance of freedom. I bared my teeth at their defenses. The Masters had not counted on the rise of their pawns. And now the pawns greatly outnumbered their former superiors. Not only were we free, but we had trained ourselves in the art of weaponry and were now almost as proficient as the contemptuous knights and bishops. They didn’t know this of course, we kept our training a secret. The element of surprise is the greatest element of all. My hand fingered my sword again, it had been doing that a lot lately, I suppose I was waiting for a battle. Despite all the warring of recent days, I found my hunger for the deaths of my tormentors was not sated at all. My days were dependent on the lust for battle and death. My bared teeth formed a grisly smile and the enemy fortifications themselves shuddered. Or, at least they did to my sight. No matter, fear or not, they would be conquered afore the night’s end.
I waited until the last crossbow bolt was wrenched from a victim before I began to applaud. My fellows only looked at me with distaste but that only amused me more and my applause developed into laughter. They stared. Fools. Can they not see what is before our eyes? A series of victories for us, eternal freedom within our grasp, our enemies for the most part lay dead across the fields of their territories. I laughed until the last of my fellow soldiers limped away muttering. As the last cripple to leave passed from my sight I let the laughter die. Fools to let themselves be wounded by such lazy opponents as ours had been. Lazy, and they had paid the price. They army was decimated and they fled to a nearby village with all their remaining forces. As if it made any difference whether they hid behind civilians. We would crush them just the same. And in the process, we’d ferret out the last of our weak. A win-win situation, as near as I could see. A pity no one else saw the beauty of the mechanics of war. It is necessary to free us, to keep us free, and to keep us strong. No one else seemed to see it as clearly as I. As for the walled town, it would be dealt with, and according to the rules of warfare. I got a great deal of pleasure from thinking how.
“Screw the rules,” I thought as I looked out upon the walled village to where the fleeing Masters’ army had retreated. Their one, final bastion of defense. It wasn’t until my second, Sixteen, turned to me with disbelief mirrored in his eyes that I realized I had spoken aloud. Well, I was right, no reason for the shock. The fools had chosen this fate for themselves and their people when they walled themselves in their town. Sixteen spoke quietly, “But sir, it’s a town.” I waited. Was he going to get to a point? “We don’t attack towns.” Ah yes, there it was. He looked so sure of himself that I laughed. Pity the fool didn’t realize it was directed at him. “Correction, we didn’t attack towns. It’s the only way.” It wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to explain to him the logistics of blockading the town and starving them of supplies. Simpler and faster to attack outright. Even as I spoke though the words dragged me down like weights, dragging me into promises I never meant to make. My soul was chained by my words. “We’ve come all this way, we have to finish now.” I lusted to finish my enemies at last, and Sixteen grimaced at me, though he stayed silent. We took in the village again, serene on the horizon. I pictured it in flames. Innocents would die, regrettable, but I suppose my enemies knew that when they chose to fortify themselves there. In the morning we would attack.
The town seemed surreal to me as I lay on its streets. Lay on its streets dying. My thoughts spun wildly out of control and I couldn’t order them no matter how hard I tried. The enemies. No, they hadn’t done this; the fools couldn’t touch me with their clumsy attacks. No, it was something more. My allies? My face contorted painfully into a grimace and I saw Sixteen’s face in the air above mine. His eyes were downcast and he couldn’t look at me. He was fingering a mug. A mug. My mug. Yes, I had drunk from that mug as a victory celebration. Poison. My face twisted even more in rage. Sixteen spoke then, still not looking at me. “It had to be done…I’m sorry…but it had to be done. You weren’t in your right mind, and the Council agreed you were…out of control.” His mouth closed again and he stood there. Out of control? What was he talking about, I defeated our oppressors, I was our saviour. Then the pictures flooded into my mind, still in chaotic order, but there none-the-less. I saw myself in another light, as I cackled and killed innocent villagers. Inside I was torn by horror as I watched that brutal parody of myself slaughtering women and children. Quietly Sixteen spoke once more, “It had to be done…” He then walked off slowly, back turned to me now. A tear ran down my face during my realization of my crimes. While the poison worked its wonders, I felt at last what it was like to be free of the lust for blood that had overcome me. It was wonderful, a blissful calm enveloping me, destroying the rage that filled my heads those past weeks. As my last breath was stolen away, I at last felt the true taste of freedom.