The country of bloodless war

The country of bloodless war - passage one *DRAFT*

I believe that it's easy enough to arm each and every man who swears loyalty of some degree to their homelands with high powered weaponry, – a breakthrough in tools deviously thought up for slaughter – and a description of a nemesis that would suggestively show the opposition no amount of mercy. After that initial stage of rallying masses with inspiration to hone in for a kill with both the freedom and honour of their home nation at stake, those soldiers that either truly believed in the cause or were never given a chance to decide for their-selves, are dispatched to hack and slash from the front line, until either those called allies or those labelled aggressors emerge with a victory branded clearly through the sheer remaining numbers.

After a battle has been decided which is to assume that any condition of war has not yet been claimed, both sides can repeat the steps, which I accept may be simplified, for a battle once again. One clash may follow another, close on the tail, One conflict soaked day is exchanged at the horizon for another that seemingly begins pure.

When one warring side is no longer capable of dispatching a steady supply of able bodies and supplies due to either loss or other circumstance, a greater division in power is stretched between the combating forces, meaning the opportunity to claim victory becomes greater.

But, if we assume that both sides engage with each handful of fragmented steel being matched with no more than a millimetre of measurable difference, this cycle of fighting for supremacy becomes a stagnant ground for neither losses or victory, one blow dealt from a force would be matched in time with flawless symmetry. Every life lost becomes a sacrifice to a cause that is no further to being achievable, with propaganda being hopeless or an outright lie and optimism being unrealistic in proportion.

It seems somewhat nihilistic and off character for myself to describe a concept with such futile wording, especially where considering that I would like to believe that hope can be nurtured from a ground thought to be in complete disrepair, no matter how difficult the search for such may be. For that reason, I suppose that I should apologise for allowing myself to take such a bleak turn, in part for trying to dissuade my OWN beliefs, but mostly for spreading an uncalled for and despair-full message to the reader. That is, is to assume that I am able to find any persons willing to transcribe and print the pages of this very journal. I should hope that I would be around for that point.

While it would seem that throughout the stories I have heard and within the things that I have seen during my travels, many wars are carried out physically, sometimes, conflicting forces may attempt to resolve disagreement through alternative means.

I recently travelled to the country of Salrig, where I heard a very interesting tale from an old lady met in a small village, located just south west from a grand metal structure of a city. Staying put in this country any longer may have been very hazardous for the health of a stranger, being myself, if the distrust of hurried patrolling servicemen did not speak enough lengths.

From the grand rug with the ornate frills that she sat cross-legged on with a toothless smile of contempt that defied age, – the grey strands of wire like hair wrapped to form a tight bun and the bright dress held loosely against her years – she bartered information from me in exchange for one portion of Stew thrown together the evening before with leftovers, and a hunk of sweetened bread. She told me the tale of a kingdom in five parts, and how four Leaders, both disagreeable and arrogant, conspired against one another through means of a long yet mutually agreed "bloodless war".