The Soldier Vol I

The Soldier and the Slaughter

“There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword, he will tear your city down oh lei o lai o lord” 

        The soldier was a simple child, at least as far as they believed, they didn't remember. But they hoped they were. They don't remember much of how they grew up. Just two kids and a game, they remembered a poet and a king. The poet and king weren't really a poet and a king but that and their faces was all the soldier could remember about being a child. How long has it been? How old were they? What was their name? Mundane questions really, questions the soldier stopped asking. Questions that could have only been answered lifetimes ago, in a time they knew their own name and knew the poet and the king in a time they didn’t bother racking their brain to remember. They’d long given up on trying. It ended the same every time. 

      They would believe they remembered something good, a library or a market leading them to a kingdom but upon every kingdom they would find nothing. They would get angry, lose themselves and the carnage left behind wasn’t worth the ghosts the soldier chased, they chased anyway. So they left it be and continued on their way, they weren't all too sure of their life before, but they knew their life now wandering through kingdoms more of a mercenary then a soldier, brandishing the sage green of the army they used to be a part of; it was the first they could remember, one random day, training with a sword; the face of their parenter long forgotten, they never could remember faces. Only the poet and the kings, why them?  Another stupid question, another voice without a face, another road without an end. 

       They continued on their way to another kingdom, from what they’d heard there was a king who had it all; except apparently subjects who didn't want to see his head on the wall. The soldier had heard of this king and was sure they’d be just another face and just another town, as they entered and made their way to the palace they’d noticed a bread stand and they’d taken an earlier note of hunger so they’d bought a loaf of bread. 

      While walking away from the stand they’d caught a face in the crowd, for the first time in who knows how long. A face and for the first time something panged in the soldier's chest, when they had blinked, the face was gone but the feeling wasn't. Why? Perhaps it didn't matter and they had simply ran into the traveler before they had resumed their walk to the palace grounds. As they entered the palace the feeling faded, they went on their way. It didn't matter to them, honestly it was strange to be feeling anything but not strange enough to keep dwelling on it, especially considering they had a job to do.

         They passed several guards as they walked the halls of the castle, till they found the throne room. After being in so many kingdoms you begin to realize it's most common for throne rooms to be in the center of the building. They entered, laying eyes on the king, a loud no doubt obnoxious man, with a face they couldn't see. It made this all the better, they didn't quite enjoy looking at people who make them cause destruction in the eyes. 

        They bowed silently. They had no intention of 

engaging in conversation. The king spoke, in an arrogant, and irritating voice, speaking of the soldier finally arriving, and the promising things they heard about the jobs they've completed, with a lowered head the soldier rolled their eyes. It's the same praise they never wanted. How they killed so easily, without fail. It was nothing to boast about, honestly taking lives was no  accomplishment. It simply made ends meet.

       The cruel, most likely tyrannical ruler spoke of his enemy, the soldier's next target. When he was done the soldier rose to their feet, target in mind.  another nameless faceless person, to the soldier at least. They set off out of the castle, on a horse provided by that very, loud king. They made way for a very nearby kingdom and they entered. They wandered the streets until they found a shady bar. They walked in  looking around, it wasn't hard to find the man surrounded by women, boasting about how he’d tricked the tyrant who sent them there. They rolled their eyes, they neared him, asking to speak with him privately outside the man said something. The soldier paid absolutely no mind, they followed the man outside and sighed, walking into the alley near the bar when the man turned and the soldier fulfilled their job. Yanking their sword from their hip they made quick work of splattering the blood of the man along the wall of the alley, the cement, and themselves. The man sputtered, gasped, and then fell. Crimson blood leaking from his chest. He took his last breath and then fell still, eyes going blank, soulless, dead.