What it Takes to be Commander

Part 1

I looked into the mirror, but it was not the young, innocent version of myself staring back. The warrior had black war paint along his face and dark, gleaming armor protecting his stone cold skin.

I moved my hand down towards the handle of my blade. I was ready to lead my people into a war.

Just months before, I was a young boy with a family. Now, I called no one my family. Any emotions that prevent me from doing my job and leading my people to victory, is seen as weakness. Therefore love was weakness. To be leader, I am to be cold, vicious, and powerful. Yet this was not who I am, or more importantly who I used to be.

I looked down from my reflection, unable to look the demon in the eye. As I turned to my bed, memories began to flood. I reached for my weapon, but instead of the handle, I reached for the blade and squeezed. Love is weakness. You are not weak. I thought bitterly.

I didn't bother to look at the dark blood running down my fingertips, instead I just grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around the wound. The pain from the wound was not enough to keep my focus off the memories. The light, shining green eyes and dark, shadowy black hair. The smile that lit up the whole world.

Stop this now. He was my weakness. Something I cannot have and should not have had in the first place.

Anger filled inside of me and I lashed out. Striking the closest thing to me, a desk. As glass shattered around me, I clenched my fists. I drew in a deep breath and walked out my chamber doors.

My guards brought up my rear as I approached the battle hungry troops, I called to my army, "Yesterday we marched to the door of our enemy. Today we shall bath in their blood."