To Drown in Power(And Re-Emerge Heartless)

Take Away My Soul

It wasn't supposed to snow in summer, yet here he was, surveying the entrance to the narrow mountain pass, an icy chill seeping deeper and deeper into his bones.

It was too cold here at the border. Too cold. Too taxing. Too tiring.

Every day was a chore. Another long list of to-dos. Another disappointment as another scouting party trudged into the camp after another sabotage. It was kind of sad that the most interesting part of his week was being told the new and creative way the mystery person had sabotaged this week's scouts.

Speaking of scouting parties, just like clockwork, this week's party came defeatedly marching back out of the pass. They never lasted more than five or six days in the pass, much to the chagrin of his court and council.

He was surprised they had managed to last this long given the fact that this group was mostly comprised of farmer's sons who had never been anywhere near the northern mountains. None of them were ready or experienced for this campaign and it showed in their skeletal frames, and constant shivering.

Why did his advisors make him launch this stupid attack? He wished he stopped at quelling the rebellion at the Infis Estate. It killed him to send his people into the harsh Aquilo mountains. He was always scared there would be a day when no one returned. When no one would come marching, limping, crawling, out of the entrance to that pass.

But today was not that day. Today there were shivering soldiers with heavy feet, stumbling back into the camp. There were less than there had been when the party entered the pass, but that was to be expected.

Expected. Since when was losing soldiers expected? Since when were a few deaths considered a blessing? Since when had a starved and freezing soldier been considered good enough to send out?

If the soldiers were slim before going in, they were skeletons now. Empty and hollow. Hollow just like Astus had been when he died. Empty of life. Empty of resolve. Empty of hope.

He was supposed to provide for them. And yet all he was doing was draining them. Drained. That word fit the young man walking up to him. There was barely any muscle left on his bones, and hardly any warmth left in his eyes.

"Your majesty," he said as he and his soldiers sank into a low bow, Ilnum, even his youthful voice sounded empty. He was much more tired than anyone as young as him should be. "I'm sorry for returning empty-handed but once we were in the pass someone began attacking our horses and carts. I made the decision to turn back. I take the bla-"

This was what happened now. All the youth were practically falling over themselves trying to please him. Willing to do anything for him. Wanting to die for him, in a war he didn't even care for.

He was supposed to be helping his family on their lands, not fighting a war. He was supposed to be going to church, not facing down Aquilo agents. He was too young. Just like the rest of them.

"It's okay,"

Even the way the soldier flinched back as he cut across his apology. Afraid he had done something wrong. Afraid he had displeased his god. God. He may as well be that to most of his soldiers.