Honor
The following is a passage from the upcoming book Battle of Damned Souls which can be purchased on smashwords.com, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Lulu, and other major book retail stores.
Chapter 2
Honor
Ollotle sat in front of a piece of parchment as he scribbled a note to his lover back home in Fripa.
"We march from sacred Fripa, we march." The note continued, "For honor and glory, we march." The call to march was sounded and Olotle hastily put his note back in his pack. He had hopes that it would make it to the whore he had spent his last copper coins on before heading to the barracks. She was youngish, curly hair, tannish skin, and arms that held him in a way he had never been held before. After the job was done she was nice enough to give him an address to send letters to. He had hopes of marriage but knew she would probably not be in Fripa when he returned.
Once the marching for the day began it was an impressive site. There were about five hundred soldiers from Fripa and about three thousand slaves. Most of the slaves came from the tribe Latha. Under King Adyros, Fripa had gained control of the kingdom Anstal and made conquered tribes their slaves and burned their cities to the ground. There was a promise of freedom if the slaves could endure the fighting but since King Adyros mainly used them as infantry not many survived more than a few battles. The slaves marched in mismatched armors and weapons, leftovers from previous battles while the Fripans all marched bare chested with muscles puffed proudly in hopes to send shivers down enemy spines. Long red capes flowed behind them giving their bare skin shelter from the hot sun. Light candles helped keep their feet from any cuts sharp rocks might give but mainly it was protection from the hot ground allowing them to move in large distances. Each soldier carried a long spear, a short sword, and a large wooden shield with family emblems painted on them. The each family emblem was a face of a monster to again strike fear into the enemy. Their hair and beards unkept giving them a wild mans look.
They continued marching, three days out from their destination in the merciless heat as throats go dry. Olotle gets dizzy and falls to the ground. His captain stands directly above him.
"Get up you fool," his captain snarls.
"Yes sir," Olotle kneels in front of his captain, "I'm ready for my punishment." King Adyros watches the beating with enjoyment. It was always good to keep your men in line. The beating continues and the gasps from the crowd get more and more as it looks like Olotle will die. Keeping respect is good but wasting time was something King Adyros didn't have time for.
"Enough," King Adyros commanded but the captain didn't hear due to his rage. King Adyros doesn't repeat the order. Instead he grabs the captain by the mangle of hair and slams the captain's head on the ground. The captain lay motionless on the ground. Now King Adyros stands above Olotle who gasps for air.
"Olotle, on your feet," the King commands.
"Yes my King," Olotle replies.
"Your captain naps," the King continues, "You will carry him on your back."
"Yes my King," Olotle replies.
In shame the soldiers continued to march until night and the wind began to blow off the coastal seas. Soup was made and campfires lit. Some bread was shared amongst the soldiers. After an hour or so of relaxation the soldiers nodded off one by one. King Adyros walked through the camp as his soldiers slept under the stars. The King walks alone with his thoughts. Alone with the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders. Did he make the right call killing the messenger from Atbythia? Was war the better choice than giving up their slaves, their way of life. Surely free will was not for every man.
As calm as the night was King Adyros could not sleep. It wasn't fear that kept him awake but a restlessness mixed with a heightened sense of things from vapors he inhaled earlier that night. The rocks beneath his feet, the fresh salt in the breeze as it came up from the seas. The snoring soldiers all around him. His men ready to die for him without a moments pause. Men willing to die all because he thought they couldn't live without slaves.
He knew that the Atbythian army marched towards Anstal. King Adyros had personally killed the messenger sent by King Zephkletos and it was King Adyros who walked out of the Council of Kings along with King Cedrick Brenrog of Gycrun. King Adyros had heard rumors and seen a slight preview when he had visited Atbythia. The Atbythian army was a beast of men, swords and spears. Rumors of their mighty horsemen made King Adyros hope they were not true. He would need to make sure the battle took place where horses could not be used.
The thought of the large and mighty kingdom of Atbythia ready to pounce and snuff out the tiny tribal kingdom of Anstal made King Adyros shake his head. He chuckled as he thought about the King of Atbythia, if it was up to Zephkletos than every man would be a Free Folk like the sea pirates of Deruwa as they waged war against the Kingdom of Gycrun.
"Free Folk," King Adyros muttered. His merry band of men was all that stood up for hope and reason against this new world order brought upon by the ideal king of Atbythia. Now death comes and it was King Adyros who provoked it barely a few months ago. If he was to be given a do over King Adyros would not do anything any differently. Anstal needs the slave system to keep tribes in line. Also the slaves did meaningless work mostly like farming, blacksmithing, and such while the citizens of Fripa were able to train for war and keep his men the ideal soldiers.
Chapter 2
Honor
Ollotle sat in front of a piece of parchment as he scribbled a note to his lover back home in Fripa.
"We march from sacred Fripa, we march." The note continued, "For honor and glory, we march." The call to march was sounded and Olotle hastily put his note back in his pack. He had hopes that it would make it to the whore he had spent his last copper coins on before heading to the barracks. She was youngish, curly hair, tannish skin, and arms that held him in a way he had never been held before. After the job was done she was nice enough to give him an address to send letters to. He had hopes of marriage but knew she would probably not be in Fripa when he returned.
Once the marching for the day began it was an impressive site. There were about five hundred soldiers from Fripa and about three thousand slaves. Most of the slaves came from the tribe Latha. Under King Adyros, Fripa had gained control of the kingdom Anstal and made conquered tribes their slaves and burned their cities to the ground. There was a promise of freedom if the slaves could endure the fighting but since King Adyros mainly used them as infantry not many survived more than a few battles. The slaves marched in mismatched armors and weapons, leftovers from previous battles while the Fripans all marched bare chested with muscles puffed proudly in hopes to send shivers down enemy spines. Long red capes flowed behind them giving their bare skin shelter from the hot sun. Light candles helped keep their feet from any cuts sharp rocks might give but mainly it was protection from the hot ground allowing them to move in large distances. Each soldier carried a long spear, a short sword, and a large wooden shield with family emblems painted on them. The each family emblem was a face of a monster to again strike fear into the enemy. Their hair and beards unkept giving them a wild mans look.
They continued marching, three days out from their destination in the merciless heat as throats go dry. Olotle gets dizzy and falls to the ground. His captain stands directly above him.
"Get up you fool," his captain snarls.
"Yes sir," Olotle kneels in front of his captain, "I'm ready for my punishment." King Adyros watches the beating with enjoyment. It was always good to keep your men in line. The beating continues and the gasps from the crowd get more and more as it looks like Olotle will die. Keeping respect is good but wasting time was something King Adyros didn't have time for.
"Enough," King Adyros commanded but the captain didn't hear due to his rage. King Adyros doesn't repeat the order. Instead he grabs the captain by the mangle of hair and slams the captain's head on the ground. The captain lay motionless on the ground. Now King Adyros stands above Olotle who gasps for air.
"Olotle, on your feet," the King commands.
"Yes my King," Olotle replies.
"Your captain naps," the King continues, "You will carry him on your back."
"Yes my King," Olotle replies.
In shame the soldiers continued to march until night and the wind began to blow off the coastal seas. Soup was made and campfires lit. Some bread was shared amongst the soldiers. After an hour or so of relaxation the soldiers nodded off one by one. King Adyros walked through the camp as his soldiers slept under the stars. The King walks alone with his thoughts. Alone with the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders. Did he make the right call killing the messenger from Atbythia? Was war the better choice than giving up their slaves, their way of life. Surely free will was not for every man.
As calm as the night was King Adyros could not sleep. It wasn't fear that kept him awake but a restlessness mixed with a heightened sense of things from vapors he inhaled earlier that night. The rocks beneath his feet, the fresh salt in the breeze as it came up from the seas. The snoring soldiers all around him. His men ready to die for him without a moments pause. Men willing to die all because he thought they couldn't live without slaves.
He knew that the Atbythian army marched towards Anstal. King Adyros had personally killed the messenger sent by King Zephkletos and it was King Adyros who walked out of the Council of Kings along with King Cedrick Brenrog of Gycrun. King Adyros had heard rumors and seen a slight preview when he had visited Atbythia. The Atbythian army was a beast of men, swords and spears. Rumors of their mighty horsemen made King Adyros hope they were not true. He would need to make sure the battle took place where horses could not be used.
The thought of the large and mighty kingdom of Atbythia ready to pounce and snuff out the tiny tribal kingdom of Anstal made King Adyros shake his head. He chuckled as he thought about the King of Atbythia, if it was up to Zephkletos than every man would be a Free Folk like the sea pirates of Deruwa as they waged war against the Kingdom of Gycrun.
"Free Folk," King Adyros muttered. His merry band of men was all that stood up for hope and reason against this new world order brought upon by the ideal king of Atbythia. Now death comes and it was King Adyros who provoked it barely a few months ago. If he was to be given a do over King Adyros would not do anything any differently. Anstal needs the slave system to keep tribes in line. Also the slaves did meaningless work mostly like farming, blacksmithing, and such while the citizens of Fripa were able to train for war and keep his men the ideal soldiers.
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