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The Siege of Widow’s Web – Part II

February 5, 2019

Beyond the gate house rested the enemy camp well protected behind a hill which separated it and Widow’s wed from each other. Their camp never went beyond the hill to avoid any enemy fire. It was not that of a regular military establishment their tents weren’t in straight rows but jotted out from the center like roots from an oak. The reason for the jumbled arrangement of the camp was that the entire encampment was put up overnight. Myrin’s tent was the center of camp being clearly the largest of them all and most guarded. To Myrin the camp was a joke and the time it took them to march from the capital had taken too long. Although he had to admit the revolution was swift and had taken less time than expected. Four days’ prior the rebellion had seized the capital city and its armory making the rebel faction a true force to be reckoned with. Capturing the capital was a small feat, the entire city was like a pile of dry oak ready to go up in flame at the first spark of revolution. That spark had been the price of bread rising that day from 4 crowns to 9 per loaf due to the amount of inflation happening in the country. Other food prices followed suit making people’s saving’s worthless. Most commoners made on average 12 crowns a week with 2-4 crowns going to taxes, (the tax varies for family size) 1 crown for half a pound of tobacco and 2 crowns for a pint of beer which the men had more than one weekly. A riot broke out in the market over the rising food prices, the rebellion sized the opportunity while the guards were distracted and took the castle. Myrin’s forces killed the current patriarch of the ruling family but unfortunately the king’s 20-year-old son escaped to an allied nation along with most of his family. The old king was weak ruler that only led his country to economic debt all for his lavish courts so it was easy to convince most of the city’s guards and the nation’s noble houses to join him. Any resistance with in the country was quickly crushed or surrender to the overwhelming majority. This new regime took control of economic crises by setting prices for food and lowering taxes on the trade caravans.

On the second day of Myrins regime ruling the nation he declared that as soon as the situation stabilized free elections would be held for a new ruler that would serve on a 5-year term. All of these changes seem to appease the masses in the city. The country side dwellers on the other hand didn’t feel directly the effect of either the old order or the new making them a bit more cautious about siding with Myrin. This was particularly present at Widow’s web were there was little to no use of Crowns expect when buying or selling to the local government. It didn’t have much only cattle and diary. But with it being the last noble house who had not sworn fealty to Myrin’s regime they need to be dealt with before rushing back to the capital preparing for the heir to the old kingdom to return with a supposed massive army.

“Sir are you all right,” Myrin was snapped out of his train of thought by one of his commanders sitting across from him. They were in his tent discussing the plans for the upcoming battle.

“Yes, I’m alright, Just tried,” he told him trying to evade notice of his minor lapse in listen skills. To most of his men it would come as a shock that somehow he was unable to pay attention to someone else talking. His men view him as almost a God like figure obeying his every command without hesitation. If tomorrow he were to say that his men’s children were a threat to the revolution, he was certain that most of them would go out smash their own children’s heads in. There was one exception in his army who did not belong to his cult of personality, was Justin the Weeping, who currently sat across from him and was his second in command. Unlike the rest of the men his reasons were for joining the revolution was less of the belief that the people should be given more power over who rules them and more of a personal reason. About four years ago him and his wife were brought to the palace, by the prince and the royal guard they were then accused of being spies and intimately put thought interrogation. At least that’s what they called it ever day they were wiped, spat upon or beaten.  The prince personality oversaw the interrogation and somedays he did it himself. According to Justin it was worst when the prince interrogated him, in some sessions the prince didn’t even ask him any questions. His wife died from the interrogation, eventually a true spy was found and Justin was thrown out on the streets with scars and bruises all over his body. The true monument to his story were the two scars on his face that went down to his bottom jaw to the bottom of his eyes making him look as if two tears had just recently run down his face.

Justin continued his brief with Myrin knowing this time he would be paying attention.    ”We’ll be attacking the gate at sunrise, the battering ram has been set up and is man by my six best men.” His finger moved across the map to where the wood pieces were (which represented platoons on the battlefield) ended.” You’ll be here, at the back the most protected place in the battle but you’ll be seen by the troops that’ll boost morale. Now only advance your position if we secure the gatehouse, otherwise stay put.” Myrin nodded, not even being needed to be told that, self-preservation was his first priority.

“From there it shouldn’t be a hard fight, it’ll take an hour at most to secure Widow’s Web. Then we kill the whore and her offspring, after that will kill the livestock and take as much as we can carry back to the capital.”

“How long do think we can last under siege.” Myrin asked almost fearful of his answer

Justin began to rub his eyes trying to think of a proper response, if felt like hours before he spoke again but when he did it was low and sounded muffled as if someone had stuffed cloth down his throat.

“A year, year and a half if we ration carefully.”

“Good, that should be enough to last em out,” Myrin said more to himself then to Justin, “Those Ormans could never wait that long for a siege. When they lose heart their men will desert and that’s when we strike.” He pounded his fist down onto the table causing some of the wood figures to tumble. “Then the people can vote and our country will be free from the tyrants.”

Justin began to chuckle at this statement.

“What are you laughing at,” he questioned with a sneer.

“I’ve fought with and against men like you. And you’re all the same telling the peasants bullshit you can’t deliver, like the street I’ll be gold and fresh chicken served with every meal. But we both know the truth, you enjoy leading them and when this revolution is truly over you’ll never give power you love being the king of your own fucked up world.” Myrin was taken back by this no one had ever dare speak to him in such a manner. His eyebrows knitted and began to talk in a deeper voice that he usually reserved for speeches.

“If you know I’m such an awful person, why are you still here.” It was almost comical that such a deep voice would come out of someone with such small a stature.

“I want prince joseph, and as soon as he’s dead I’m leaving you and your lot of crazies.” Justin inhaled for a moment letting the words sink into Tom’s thick skull, surprisingly Myrin looked almost bored at his response.

“Is that it, a little predictable wouldn’t you say,” he stood up and went over to his armor rack in the corner that had a full suit. It shimmered like a calm ocean of gold before a storm arrives. He took the helm off the rack, it, like the rest of the armor was made of gold, but unlike the rest of the armor had a single horn in the center of the forehead about as long as one’s ring finger and just as thick.  This was supposed to represent his sigil which was the Unicorn but now the universal sign for the revolution.

“What’cha expect.” Justin asked with sour in his voice.

“Don’t know,” he talked without taking his eyes off the helmet,” Now get out I need rest.” Justin didn’t respect Tom but he had been trained though out his career as a solider to carry out orders from his superiors. After Justin left Myrin stared as his helm for a while looking at his reflection in its shinny golden surface. His face had become distorted in the helm with it becoming barley reconcilable from the original. The entire face had curved around the sockets and horn giving his face the appearance of liquid running down the helm.

“I am not a tyrant,” he spoke to himself over and over again hoping that he might believe it and sink into the lie once again.

Garth woke with a fearful shock, he was drenched in sweat and couldn’t stop shaking from the fear he had just experienced. It was probably the most horrifying dream he would ever have, in the sense that he could barely distinguish with real life even now he wasn’t sure if all of it wasn’t real. It had been about his wife giving birth to the baby, she was in their bedroom alone while he could see her but couldn’t do anything else almost as if just his eyes were in the dream. Her screams pained him at the thought that he could do nothing to ease the sorrows of his wife. After what felt like hours an infant appeared between her legs, crying even louder then it’s mother and wet with fluid, she cradled into her arms trying to calm it. But without warning her head slumped and her eyes shut while the infant cried all the more louder.

He rose from the straw bed with great urgency, practically leaping for his pipe to calm his nerves. His hands shaking as he grasped it, then reached for the small pile of tobacco near the fire pit and poured a gracious amount till it practically overflowed with black powder. Garth then dipped his head low into the pit trying desperately with his hands to fan the ashes into a flame to feed his desire for a smoke. This position continued with his pipe held in his mouth and his hands fanning the ashes until a flame appeared. He ducked his head close to it allowing for the tobacco to be lit, then pulled back relaxing for his smoke and calming his nerves. It was only then that he realized how early it was, the sky was a blood red barley lighting the surrounding world.

To combat this natural darkness he tossed another cow chip on the fire and continued to fan. It didn’t take long for flames to start licking the chip until it became a steady fire giving off a modest amount of light filled the gatehouse. Garth leaden back and admired his work happy to have his mind focused on something else other then his dream. Although this did not satisfy his other bedfellows who began to stir. The first of which was Ralph who rose from his bed and yawn so long it look as if his gash had stretched two more inches.

“How’cha sleep?” Garth asked tearing his eyes away from the fire. He didn’t respond to this at first only making his way over to the pit and sat himself down next to him. Ralph wiggled his fingers, signaling for the pipe, which Garth obeyed the request and put it in his grasp. With a pipe in his mouth Ralph began to suck on it’s end, but unlike how his other bedfellows smoked through their nose or mouth he smoked through his gash making him look more like dragon then boy.

“like shit,” he responded shortly after a few puffs. “You were talking in your sleep, kept me up half the night.

“O, uh sorry,” Garth apologized then leaving an awkward silence in the air for awhile till he spoke up again. “what was I saying?”

“You were more of just shouting, Julia over and over, you worried about the baby.” Ralph knew a great deal about Garth’s home life, since Ralph did not have his own farm or wife he logged at the communally housing in the castle where he was assigned to a duty every day. On most days he was sent to Garth’s farm to help with the life stock, or on days when Garth had to go to the slaughter house which was on the other side of the valley Ralph would stay and keep Julia company.

“I’m worried about her, the doctor says she’s due tomorrow and what if I don’t get there in time,” he put his head in his palms. “I wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.” Garth’s family tree was riddled with maternal deaths his mother died giving birth to his brother and her mother before her died of giving birth to her.

“Well one less mouth,” Garth head shot up like mouse leaping out of a hole, giving Ralph a stare that he thought would frighten him but instead had no effect. This infuriated Garth even more making his face go as red as a cherry and fist clench ready to pounce like a cat. But he never got a chance, his attention was torn away to Arthur who had gotten out of his bed and look out the arrow slit in the wall just to be met with a terrible sight. Hundreds or perhaps thousands could be seen coming over the edge of the hill, in their front was a long, large log with it’s end having a goat skull mounted on it six men carried with great pace trying to stay in front while still carrying such a heavy load. All of them wore the sign of the revolution and her colors red on the right side and blue on the left with a white unicorn in the center, every tenth man in the front carried a banner of this design to show pride for what they were fighting for.

A screeched exited him, in instant he was yelling everyone to get up for the enemy was attacking. Completely forgetting about the argument with his comrade, Garth ran out of the gatehouse and to a bell mounted on the outside to warn of the impending attack. He griped the rope in his palm then began to swing it back and forth trying to ring it as fast and loud as he could.

“We’re under attack, We’re under attack,” he screamed so loud he though people in the capital could hear him. This continued for some time until he felt the pounding of a hundred boots on the bridge coming his way. With the semi comfortable of reinforcements coming to the gate Garth ran back inside the gatehouse. In the few seconds Garth was out the entire group of his bedfellows went into a frenzy. Ralph was trying as fast as he could to get his armor on, Arthur was gathering up the weapons that had been scattered about the room during their stay, while the others were grabbing anything that wasn’t bolted down and piling it against the gate to give it extra defense. Garth joined in on this confusion and began to get his own leather armor on his body.

The situation reminded garth of the time when he saw a mouse being chased around the farm house by a stray cat. Eventually the cat boxed it in against the barn wall making escape nearly impossible. Each time the mouse tried to run in one direction the cat would slam it’s paw down in its path. With of the rodent’s running area decreased as two grey walls of fur closed in on him the cat edged its self closer and closer. Garth truly believed that religion was only for humans until that day, which one could say that for a spilt second the rodent had gotten down on his knees and prayed. Then before it could even mutter an our father the cat’s head boded down and snapped it’s neck.

He didn’t know why at the time it had depressed him so much, he would take cattle to the slaughter house every week, but it was the look in it’s eyes almost as if it knew of its impending doom and accepted it. Garth promised to himself on the day that he was enlisted he wouldn’t be like the mouse he would be like a cat and get them before they got him. His body began to quiver as he came back to the moment, the rebel’s were nearly on their door step, with shaky hands he pick up a pike then ran over by Arthur who had his back against the wall next to the one of the pike holes. In one swift motion Arthur spun around and plug a hole with the spear head but didn’t go any deeper.  Garth went over to the next hole and mirrored Arthur’s action then waited to pounce on the enemy.

With great huffs and puffs Justin march in rhythm with his men under the cover of the battering rams roof. It was a weightfull push of the ram with 5 men on each side and two men in the back, although he had to admit that in all his years as a solider he hadn’t seen a ram go at the pace of a fast march which was why the men called it Stallion.  It was a beautiful engineering feet well sanded ash wood, it’s joints perfectly collapsible, a swinging log with a ram’s skull on the end and completely roofed in, in order to keep flying projectiles off them even though none were present at the moment. Justin would have leaped over the moon to get siege equipment like this when he was foot solider for the king, back then they would chop down a monstrous of tree and shaped it’s end to a fine point. He took a great push against the Stallion and pushed these thoughts of his past were pushed to the back of his head. Another great breath escaped his lungs as him and the platoon shoved the stallion along in-between the two jutting gate houses and toward the wooded gate.

Then with a quick and thundering halt Justin was nearly thrown off his position on the ram and into the gate which would have broken considering how the men joked about what a thick skull he had. Justin regained himself form this minor folly which he thanked God none of the men had seen, then ready himself for him to give great burst of orders to them. Heavy breaths softened, till little more than short wheezes, the shaking of the earth from the rebel army subsided, l silence engulfed all of widow’s web. The outside world didn’t seem to matter, the ideologies that they fought for slipped from their mind like water, the only clear thought that remained in Justin, Myrin, Garth, Arthur, Ralph and all the other foot soldier’s head’s was “They’re going to kill us so we must kill them.” Time itself seem to stop as if knowing what was about to happen also trying to squeeze as much peace time as it could before chaos ensued.

“HEVY,” Justin’s command seemed to shatter the mere idea of peace and in it’s place stood the sole idea of war. The men pulled back on the ram and sung it forward causing it to crash into the gate with a bang. Wood splintered and cracked but the hinges stayed frim refusing to swing to the intruders. A sharp pain shot through Justin’s side and up his body jolting him out of his contraction on breaking down the gate, instead self-preservation replaced the thought.  He looked down his side to see a pike had jotted out from one of the gatehouses and was loosely lodge below his ribs where his armor had a kink in it’s plates. Rage flowed through Justin as he grasped the spear then ripped it out of his side with little concern to blood lost and broke the pike’s tip off with his great hands making it seem to him like a wood chip under the hoof of a heavy horse. With great thrust he flung it back into the pike hole it had come out which too Arthur’s unfortunate luck slammed into his gut.  He flopped upon the ground and began to jerk about like a fish

Garth who had heard Arthur’s shout of pain looked over to see him sprawled across clutching his gut with great agony. Without a second though he left his pike in the hole and bent down to help his fellow comrade, he pulled Arthur’s arm over his neck in an attempt to help him walk.

“What in hell you doin,” Arthur inquired when he had regained himself. “Get back and keep fighting.”

“It doesn’t matter, the pike’s aren’t doing anything, now come on let’s help with the gate.” Arthur agreed to this with a simple nod then used his own legs to walk but still clenched his gut which had turned a shade of purple. Although Garth still allowed Arthur to use him as support but every few steps he would kick Arthur’s shins to reminded him that he had two good working feet. Once outside they saw the extent of the items that were less then an hour ago inside the gate house but now had been stacked up against the gate till it was up to Garth’s neck.  Whatever wasn’t nailed down in the gatehouses they had thrown on the pile, loose stones, hay piles, barrels of cow chips crates of food and furniture.  Even this did not seem to suffice as the rest of their bedfellows pushed themselves against the pile to increase the stability of it all, but with every swing of the ram the whole mass would shake causing pieces of the assortment to come crumbling down on them. Ralph was one of them, fight a losing battle of keep the gate from swinging inward, he was on the very edge of the door between a crate and the door hinge pushing with all his might. Arthur seemed to forget of his previous injuries as he bounded out of Garth’s support and put his own back against the pile right next to Ralph. The gate shook and splintered causing more objects to plummet on the defenders, Garth himself did not join in this feeble attempt in keeping the new order separated from the old but instead stood back in awe at what was happening. A tear escaped his eye, he knew what was about to happen, the rebels would come in and surly kill all of them, then they’d go down into the valley and burn all of it.

“I should run,” he whispered to himself, he should go run down into the valley and grab is wife then sneak out through one of the unguarded gates. He knew that getting down their in time was nearly impossible before the invasion would occur and she was 9 months pregnant. But their was a chance that they could get away from it all, leave everything behind and live in the capital or maybe Velicos, he could take up a trade join a guild even, their child would go to school then every night he’d get home at a decent time and eat something besides beef.  They were fleeting dreams of a fantasy that would never manifest itself in reality, Garth knew but it gave him hope that he had a choice of fighting, he wasn’t doing this for his life he was doing it to keep widow’s web safe even though he knew deep inside that it was less about patriotism and more of survival.  So using that logic he was doing a selfless action that could make his child proud to be his offspring.

Garth push these thoughts away for another time, while trying to remain focused on the present situation. Though what did keep pushing itself to the head of his thoughts was where were the reinforcements, he turned his head down the bridge toward the central tower, a faint vibration of marching feet could be felt and one see the large sigil on their wooden shields of a black six legged spider. They were still a great deal away but would be there in the next few minutes.

A loud crack of wood reached his ears, he turned to see in horror that the make shift barricade had crumpled reforming into small clusters, which the only threat it imposed to the invaders was a minor tripping hazard. Arthur, Ralph and the three others didn’t give up their fight to keep the gate closed, they heaved and dug in their heels trying desperately to slow it’s progress. This had little affect on it as the wood beam that held the two separate doors together began to creak and crack at the strain. There was one last great heave then the ram burst in with a force that was so powerful it snapped the beam as easy as one would do with a twig. The gate opened with snail like speed due to the defenders resistance, Garth knew it wouldn’t maintain this speed for long as the bulk of the rebel forces had begun to advance at the sight of the battering ram crew breaking through the defenses.  He looked behind him to see their own troops had arrived, they themselves look to be in the same state of terror once they saw the scene unfold in front of them. No one else joined in on the effort of keeping the gate shut, they all knew of the inevitable but all of them seemed to be rooted in their shoes. The door’s hinges seemed to scream in agony as they were forced open the opposite way they were intended. Garth knew that his comrades would be overrun in a mere moment by the rebels, his tongue seemed to grow heavy at this though, making loud verbalization difficult, but he had to do something before he could think his lips began to move as a reflect suddenly blaring out a warning without realizing it was him speaking.

“GET AWAY,” only three of the five obeyed his command but both Arthur and Ralph stayed in their spots pushing with what strength they had left. Garth admired them for their bravery but not as much for their judgment due to fact they would be swarmed in mere moments. The remaining two seemed to also realized this fact by the look of utter terror on their faces but moved to slow as a great mass of soldiers came crashing through the gate. They were practically thrown against the gate house wall as the gate rammed against them, it stuttered for a mere moment then as another wave pushed against it causing the gate to came back with a much harder swing.

Times itself seemed to slow, Arthur got himself to his bearings as he leaned against the gate house, Ralph was behind him still regaining himself for a mere second one could have believed that the two boys had mere scraped themselves after wrestling, not in battle. It was almost a moment of peace that Garth wished he could have stay in permanently, it was like moment during a storm when there’s a flash from above and you forget your hurry to rush inside then the loud crash brings one back into the realization that it was storming. But peace always comes to an end, the door rushed into the side of Arthur’s skull giving little residence. Garth shut his eyes only hear a defining crunch then a splatter of liquid against his face, his breath quickened as turned and ran behind the line loyalist men.

He didn’t want to die, he though as a million ideas came to him, he needed to leave, forget about his wife forget about the baby he wanted to live, he’d run to one of the other gates then go to Velicos where he’d prostitute himself or whatever job he could get his hands. Garth tried more and more desperately to make his way through the mass of friendly troops. His heart seemed to jump into his throat as the words I need to get out, repeated over and over in his head. The brave and calm facade that he put on for himself had fallen with any hope for victory his eyes began to flood as he became less and less of a solider and more of a boy. With his mind completely occupied, Garth seemed to forget how to run as he trip over his own two feet. The crowd of men reversed their steps as they began to get pushed back. An endless wave of rebels seemed to bang up against the dam of wooden shields chipping away at it. Justin on the other side tried desperately to wrangle the troop together into a more practical position but it was like herding cats, these were raw recruits with the only battle experience being in a mob that took over the capital. The loyalist seemed much more effective at keeping them back then anticipated, Justin need to break through their line or else moral would drop and the entire rebel army would route. To hell with it he though, with a fierce war cry he began to charge with several others of his comrades close behind him mimicking his actions. Before Justin had even reached the line it had begun to break, the pure sight of Justin the Weeping coming straight for them sent some flinging behind the ranks. A new wave of enthusiasm rushed over the rebels as they charged straight through, completely consuming what was left of the front line. Other loyalist followed suit trying desperately to fight but losing ground fast thrusting their spears and thrashing their knives. This did not phase Justin as he knew they would all fall to their might soon enough so he set his sights on his true goal Thorament’s son.

The boy was no military leader which angered him that he was able to hold them back longer then expected. He probably didn’t even work for the position and was just handed it like one would be handed a hammer. It sickened him to his core that someone could get such an easy rank with little work just because of blood, Justin worked all of two years for he could lead a regiment but this child was in charge of their whole dam army. It didn’t matter he thought in a moment he would put his head on a spike, then the rest of the army would kneel.  The boy didn’t even show any aspect of bravery positioning himself behind his men whilst shouting commands, although these men showed very little loyalty to Marten and more to their lives as they themselves began to shrink back behind him. While Marten was too occupied with trying to keep his men in line to notice he was unprotected Justin saw this as a prefect opportunity to strike him down. With his great spiked mace in hand Justin lunched at him with great speed, he knocked him onto his back and sending the sword he held flying from his hand. It skid across the bridge till it banged up against Garth who was currently crawling in-between legs in order to avoid conflict. He didn’t notice the weapon till it cut his own fingers tips giving him quite a stir, he grasped it having no weapon at the time. Garth’s eyes darted across the area knowing that he had seen the sword before but couldn’t seem to think of who in his state of fear. It did matter though as his eyes fell upon Marten who currently laid on his back desperately trying to get up like a turtle tipped on it’s shell as a large man approached him. He’d find the entire situation comical of Marten on his back unable to get due to the heavy armor on him but he wouldn’t want to see him die even if he was an ass to him. His hands shook desperately as he tried to pick up the weapon he was frightened at the sight of man who could probably crush Garth’s skull with just his palms. A voice seemed to scream inside his head, “You’re a coward, you’re not a warrior, you’re nobody run away hide.” It trailed on and on getting louder with each step closer the man made to Marten.

“YOU’RE A COWARD!” The voice screeched with such power it felt as if his brain was into two. Without thinking Garth grasped the sword then rushed to the aid of his younger comrade.  Justin mood while was much smugger then fearful he felt as if he was invisible all his life he was told how the lords and their children were above the commoners in every way, but now he was above one of them.  He approached Marten with such stagnate gait as to soak in the beauty of the situation if he was given the choice he would have stayed in the moment forever. It seemed almost too soon when he reached the young lording at the edge of the bridge who was desperately tried to get up by using the wooden railing but with no success.

“My Lord,” he said to with an ironic tone that made Marten looked at him a mixture of hate and fear. Seeing as he could delay the act no longer he raised his spiked mace high above his head at the same moment a gap in between his plates revealed it’s self on his hip. Garth saw this weak point as his opening charging straight for it as the voice in his head screamed, “Do it you coward.”

The sword slice through Justin as if he was constructed of butter going up through his side and out his right shoulder. Justin screamed only knowing a pain this terrible since his time in the prince’s dungeon. His hands slacked from agony, the spiked mace slipped from his grasped banging down upon Marten’s left knee bending his weak metal armor till it bit deep into his skin. Garth could no longer hear the voice any longer but it’s repercussions remained causing him to believe it’s silence meant he had done something right almost taking joy in his actions. Justin swiveled his head to Garth he was in pure horror that a boy could do such a thing to him.

“I am no coward,” he told him slowing dislodging the sword form his torso. Determination drain from Justin knowing full that he would die soon and would not fight this boy, a tear escaped him running through his scar like a stream in a canyon he knew soon he would be with his wife. Then with one swift swipe of the sword Justin’s head was cut clean across his mouth.  Joy seemed to flow through Garth at the fact that he had extinguished a life, it wasn’t like when he killed a sick calf but this man was an intelligent creature he wanted to do it again to have power over an intelligent being. Unbeknownst to him Marten had been drag away by one of the keep’s guard toward the door into the central tower. The guard called out to others on the inside over the roar of the battle telling them he had the boy. With that the doors opened quickly letting them than was shut and locked with a resounding click. Other loyalist men in the rear noticed this now knowing that their only way of retreat was gone they began to panic abandoning their ranks and began banging on their own castle door to be let in. Garth didn’t notice the panic over the door nor did he care all he focused on was jabbing at any rebel troop he could set his sights on. Form this over examination of his front he didn’t notice when another rebel came around him the slicing him in the back going right through his gut. Garth tumbled to the ground feeling as if he had just eaten bad porridge he looked up to his attacker to see a boy just as old as he was he raised his own sword for the final blow on Garth when the entire bridge began to shake. His attacker lost his balance falling down himself this victory was short lived as the floor gave beneath him with the rest of bridge Keith following. Time itself seemed to slow as he fell giving him time to look at his surroundings, he saw the soldiers who fell with him the bulk of which were like him young men who didn’t understand what they were fighting for or who they were fight against. They had all had been swept up in such patriotic fever that they couldn’t see their enemy as human, perhaps they were right and a republic should be formed, maybe things should just stay the same or everyone may be wrong and they deserved their fate.  Looking below he spotted his home nestled between the meadows where the cows grazed it was a peaceful sight the valley seemed to be untouched by the war just by looking at the valley one would believe there was no war. He turned his head back toward his little cottage and for one fleeting moment he could have sworn he saw his wife with an infant in hand at for once in his life he was not worried for her, himself or anyone he was just glad that she was alive the baby was alive. Garth’s head struck the ground killing him instantly.

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