Curse - Septiplier

21: War Never Changes

Jack's POV

My heart was pounding against my chest, and I was suddenly unable to focus on anything but the rapid sound of it pumping through my ears and my veins. I was still adrenaline charged after the battle, even though I hardly had done anything. Mark was defending me most of the time while I cowered underneath him, and at the sight of reinforcements our attacks turn tail and fled. Mark joined the charge in chasing him off while my father strode to my side, helping me to my feet and appearing genuinely concerned.

Since he had helped me back inside, I hadn't seen a single glimpse of Mark.

I stormed around, looking through each of the beds set up for those who were injured and finding other soldiers with wounds I could have lived my whole life without seeing, and then moved on. He didn't seem to be resting anywhere, and I fled from those rooms to the soldier's dorms. I burst through the door, and several heads turned to face me as I stomped inside, my head twisting and turning in attempt to locate Mark wherever he was. The other soldiers turned and looked at one another in confusion, wondering why I had suddenly appeared just to walk back out angrily and slam the door behind me. He wasn't there either, so I didn't care what the other soldiers had to say.

I went back inside of the castle, and I found my father gathering several messengers in front of him, giving them a speech before preparing to send them out. They were going out to the village to send whatever word my father had. As I walked over to him, prepared to ask if he'd seen any other soldiers going into the village, I caught the General's gaze as he slunk behind my father. His eyes were narrowed and he glared at me before slinking away at a quicker pace. I frowned, confusion and frustration coursing through me. I was sure that I would soon get another lecture from him, but what about I didn't know. My father calling my name pulled me back to the present.

"Jack, it would be wonderful if you went with these messengers. They're going out into the village to assess the damage done there and what occurred during the battle." My father's eyes looked tired, upset, and overly worried about those in the village; a look that he had that I hadn't seen in several years. I frowned in confusion, but not about his sudden concern for the kingdom he'd been running for years.

"They got to the village?" I demanded, my thoughts racing to Mark's family and the small children I'd seen there, running around and laughing, smiling. How many were outside and playing while this war went on? My father nodded, and I whipped around and sprinted towards the doors. Several feet scuffled behind me in attempt to follow me out, but I was quicker.

Anger suddenly struck me, and I forgot about Mark in the idea of someone in my kingdom suffering because of me. The idea that any one of those knighted soldiers from the other kingdom laying any form of weaponry or raised intention of harm upon the villagers sent me into a rage. I was willing to take on an entire armada on my lonesome if it meant I never saw another villager fall again. I would practice my swordsmanship every day just to sneak over to their kingdom and slaughter every single one of them. My village was mine to protect, and I wouldn't let anything happen to them so long as I breathed.

But I was already too late to make that decision.

I arrived in the village, my thoughts angry and downcast only to find the villagers all circled under the graying skies, candles in their hands and a soft hum arising from their throats as the dead and the fallen lay in front of them. I saw the bodies of several men, even some women and children, lying pleasantly on the cobbled walkways as if they were simply asleep there, and not actually suffering the curse known as death. The villager's heads were all bowed, and most held hands, humming softly and occasionally lifting their heads to the sky as if praying. A heavy sadness hung in the air, and it was more than palpable.

What really caught me off guard was my eyes turning and finding Mark on the edge of the circle, standing inside the group of people while on one knee. His helmet was off, despite it being on during the battle, and he looked as though he was crying or he was about to. His sword was unsheathed and stuck into the ground, his hand on the hilt almost as if he was praying to it. He stood slowly, holding his helmet at his waist and keeping his head bowed, looking down at the fallen villagers as if he felt profound remorse about their deaths.

"Its your fault!" A lady suddenly snapped, and the silence was broken. The villagers opened their eyes as a squat village lady rounded on Mark, who looked up in surprise at her sudden anger. "That boy would have been alive, but instead your duty is to that prince! That prince who won't even marry off to keep us safe, and this boy could have been alive if it wasn't to your ignorance!" She pointed down at one of the fallen children, a small boy with dark unkempt hair to match hers, and her face was a twist of sadness, anger, and extreme confusion. A part of me wanted to feel taken aback, another part of me was strictly furious, but I knew better than to argue with the villagers. Their intelligence was unmatched as they struggled much unlike I did. They faced a day to day life of disasters such as crows picking at crops and as a result poor income, poor living habits and homes, and my worst nightmare was not being woken up in the morning by a guard. I knew our differences quite well, well enough that I wouldn't let them take this out on Mark.

"No, its my fault!" I said, pushing my was gently but quickly through the crowd, who looked surprised at my sudden appearance. Mark, who's face was shadowed with shame and discomfort, looked up at me as well, but his expression did not change. I looked back at the lady, who seemed slightly embarrassed that she had called me out while I was in earshot, but I reached forward and I grabbed her hands, holding them in my own. "This is all my fault, because the soldier's duties have been twisted from being all the kingdom's to just mine. I'm so sorry for your losses, all of yours." I turned to speak to the whole crowd now, and the messengers began to push their way in between, offering to walk people home and carry their dead away for a proper burial. People were offered money and services to help them in any way they could as a result of my father, and I turned to find Mark as they all left.

His face was somber, his expression drooping into a sad and discontented one with no interest or purpose anymore. He looked the same way that I felt, and he knew just as well as I did that my being the prince and refusal to marry meant I was under high guard and a big target; the soldiers simply couldn't afford to let me die, because there was no other heir to the throne. Yet, and yet, at the same time their actual duties were to their kingdom and the people that they train and serve to protect. Today, Mark had watched several of them die without being able to so much as lift a finger because his first reaction, his first response, was to protect me. I could tell it was completely tearing him apart inside.

Especially when he turned from me without another word, and began the slow trek back home.

~~~

Small unedited chapter I thought I would add.

Hope you all enjoyed! Have yourselves a frantastic week, and I'll see you all in the next one!

~Jay