Written in blood instead of ink

Intro

        

The sound of steel meeting steel had finally been silenced by the pounding of my own heart. The rain was sapping what little warmth my leather armour was giving me. It was a miracle that I hadn't been injured yet let alone killed. My sword has saved me from many killing blows in the past three days. The number of dead had amounted to such that now it would be almost impossible to bring them all home to their families. Their corpses have been left to rot in the mud, used as stepping stones by the living so that they might achieve victory. This is not the honourable battle we had been promised, this is a massacre. A massacre that I have found myself right in the middle of, with the hope of finding his face amongst those still living. I don't know what I would do if he was dead - well, I do know that I would be out of a job. I wouldn't be able to write the life of the Prince, if the prince I was supposed to be writing about was dead.

As I reach the top of a hill overlooking the front line I hear him cry. It is not a cry of victory or pain - but a cry of absolute despair. There he stands, his face turned towards the sky as if looking for the gods in hopes that they might come and take away his grief. For a sign that the man now lying dead before him was a mere illusion. That it was anyone but the body of his father, the king. I make my way down the slope. Sliding in the ankle-deep mud, falling over myself to get to his side. I only hope Alastair could keep his rage from controlling his actions.

But the body did not fade or disappear, it laid still on the ground, any signs of life have faded quickly with the aid of the rain. He stood there with a fire burning behind his brown eyes. Making them appear as if they were gold. His sword held in a vice grip in his right hand. I reach his side just as those around us start to shout.

"Long live the King!"

Alistair stared ahead at the army advancing towards us. I stand at his side, our knights and soldiers behind us. I place my left hand on his shoulder causing him to take his eyes off the enemy. His golden-brown locking with my dark brown almost black eyes.

"This is no time for mourning Al, Let us take the fight to those who have killed those we care for. End this battle so that the souls of those who have died will find peace." I feel like I'm shouting at him when I speak but I know that it would be the only way he would hear me.

"Sylvia, my Father." His voice cracks when he speaks. So it's not very hard to tell that Alistair was crying. His tears mixed in with the falling rain.

" We will avenge him, Alistair. My sword is yours to command and always has been. But now you hold the ability to command an entire kingdom, let them know what you wish for them to do, my King." Alister raises his blade and points it towards the enemies ahead.

"For Freedom, For Eliria!"