This Is My Story

by Poopenstein

The war between East and North has ended. However, winter is coming and political strength must be restored. This is the aftermath of the war. This is my story. Listen to it.

He would not deny that he was uneasy. Nor would he deny the slight clenching in his stomach or the numb, aching feeling in his throat. No, he was never one to deny the obvious. However, the fact that he acknowledged that these curious sensations existed did not necessarily mean that he knew why they did so.

'Why?' he questioned himself in an almost irritated manner. There was no warrant for these foreign feelings to take hold in his mind. He was a ruthless but honorable lord. His childhood had been strict and harsh. He had been trained under his stoic, infallible uncle- 'Kuze', his mind supplemented- while his lord father had been busy attending the land and treating with the other great lords. His most prominent childhood and adolescent memories consisted of waking at dawn and perfecting his fighting skills before being presented to his lord father's most trusted and skilled advisors and spending hours upon hours on becoming familiar with the matters of territory and the what not. It would have been a rather mundane routine if it were not for the fact that so many people- human and demon alike- depended on his preparations as the future Eastern Lord. No, that fact put everything into a different perspective- not that he knew any other.

As the eldest of two offspring and the one that would always exhibit the most potential, it had been engrained into his mind early in his life that he would be his father's successor. Thus, he had grown up under the constant surveillance and guidance of his lord father and uncle and the councilmen. These demons, each and every one of them qualified in their own right, would always challenge him, test him even at times when he was barely able to hide his exhaustion; needless to say, he would always achieve above their expectations. After all, he was the heir of the East; he had the blood of the Wolves coursing through his veins. He had been trained to be ready for anything- anything including his lord father's sudden death.

When his lord father had been killed in battle, he had ascertained the respect and support of his father's- now his- men. And as in tradition, he had personally eliminated any rouge demons or power-hungry lords foolish enough to challenge his claim. He waged war when necessary- he led the battles himself- and under his reign, the East and the North reconciled after he killed the other great lord, thus avenging his father's death. His hands- they were blood-stained ones, but that did not faze him. He had killed hundreds, thousands even. He did not feel threatened with hundreds of men dying around him, for he had no opponent that could render him into such a state and his soldiers were the best of the elite and could handle themselves. He was neither intimidated by the other great lords during negotiations, nor nervous while sparring with Kuze, from whom he had learned his most valuable lessons both intellectually and physically.

And yet, this slip of a girl in front of him made him wary, apprehensive almost. It was rather preposterous: a human girl was making him question himself. He frowned. He was a demon lord, zhenshi-de; he should not even be bothering with her, this human girl. 'However…' His eyes narrowed even more.

A squadron had found her during the storming of the Northern Castle. 'It had still been summer.' He thought absent-mindedly. It had been a long, prosperous summer lasting a bit over a century. The lands had all flourished; the times had been relatively peaceful compared to the others before it. Many things had been accomplished. A few tasks had detailed countless days of negotiating with power-hungry lords that had to be put in their place, and others had taken more days to be fulfilled physically; however, in the end, the people were content. It had been- as a few of his advisors liked to call such times- 'an era of great advancement in the welfare of the peoples and the lands.' He never knew why he kept half of those useless old men and their equally worthless so-called disciples around most of the time, but he supposed that they served well enough. A few had actually told him that it was his great reign that caused summer to last so long. He, however, knew better than to entertain such delusions. Yet, he had still been slightly caught off guard when summer had abruptly drawn to a close at around the same time as when the Northern Lord had lost his touch and had to be taken care of. And time went on; it was now autumn.

'Winter is coming.' The scholars said that a summer that died quickly would always be followed by a long, harsh winter. More often than not, at least in his lifetime, this was true. As a rule of thumb, he did not usually establish strong dislikes or likes- such things would get him killed. However, just as he would not deny his wariness around the girl, he would not deny that he did not favor winter. Every winter took just as it always did and always would. The timing of the Northern Lord's madness could not have had been any worse; the Four Kingdoms should have had been preparing for winter, not waging war against one another. He frowned slightly. 'And now with so many dead…'

He himself had found and killed the Northern Lord. It had been insanity, to put it lightly. The lord had fallen into the darkness where no one could reach him. Making contracts with strange beings, the lord had sealed off the Northern castle under a thick miasma and conjured strange fiends to wander in it, preying on the servants and soldiers housed inside.

The walls and surrounding areas of the castle had been no better. There, under the Northern Lord's incantations, those who had fallen walked once again and had to be stricken down whether they had held the faces of comrades or those of foes. While all of his soldiers had been trained under his careful eye at some point, some had hesitated at seeing men, with whom they had broken bread with, watched over one another's backs with, and fought alongside with for the past six and twenty years, fall, only to rise as the undead and without any past memories of loyalty or kinship. Those moments of hesitance had taken both their true lives and their freedom granted by death as the deranged lord's spells turned them into the undead as well. And no matter how hard or swiftly his soldiers had attacked them, the undead would not die, for they were dead already. He could still distinctly remember the smells- rather disgusting, that.

It had been one of the lowest points in the war for his soldiers physically and mentally; they had been fighting for so long, and the sight of the undead had been an additional strain. The group morale had been at an all time low. His soldiers had looked to him for some sort of brilliant maneuver that would save the day. They should have had known better. He had no brilliant plan, but they would follow him regardless. All he had able to command his soldiers to do was to hold the undead at arm's length- while his healers and few spellcasters sealed the undead- and to focus their attacks on the swarms of the lesser demons that had also congregated at the boundaries of the Northern Castle. Then, he had carefully masked his aura before slipping into the madness that the lord had thrown his castle into. Once inside, he could hear the demented lord screaming one moment, laughing hysterically the next, and sobbing before repeating the whole process over. The idea, however, was the same: the lord apparently had been betrayed by his minions and allies and, soon, everyone would regret ever scheming against him.

He had just stalked closer and closer to the lord, ignoring the lord's incessant ramblings and the grotesque fiends roaming the halls. By the time that the once great Northern Lord had noticed his infiltration into the castle, it was already too late; the lord had not even seen Buxiu flashing in the air before it nicked a clean, precise sliver in his throat. The thing that he had killed that night had not been the once great Northern lord- no, that demon had been replaced by a dark entity. It had been a rather anti-climactic end to such a long and bloody war, but it had been an end nonetheless and he was not one to complain. After the lord's death, the dark magic around the castle had immediately pulsed weakly and then disappeared altogether. The North was free.

During the aftermath of the lord's death, he had ordered all servants, soldiers, and prisoners in the castle to be freed and treated for. There had been those, partially devoured by the fiends and lying in their own blood, that struggled for breath, moaning in pain; there had been corpses of the hapless servants who had died with looks of horror forever sealed on their faces; there had been soldiers who had attempted to band together and fight off the fiends. Some survived; others did not. Wherever the fiends had roamed, the harsh smell of death clung to the air. Those that had been lucky enough to avoid detection by the fiends were scarred by the screams of horror and shrieks of pain that had echoed that night.

The fiends had not found the dungeons before they had disappeared with the lord's death. Nevertheless, the dungeons themselves had a horrible odor as well; they had reeked of old blood, decaying corpses, and the smell of excrement piled upon layers and layers of old excrement. The girl- she had been locked away from the other rebels and activists in the there. Chained, starving, and barely conscious- barely alive- she sat there behind some bars enchanted with ancient dark magic.

He mentally grimaced. He had lost five good soldiers when the door had emitted a large ball of fire as one soldier unwittingly tried to unlock it. When he had arrived at the scene, he had considered leaving her back there to rot before deciding otherwise. The old lord had to have had some reason to keep her in such a well-protected chamber: he had become deranged, not stupid. In the end, he ended up telling a soldier to retrieve the lord's body and throwing it at the bars in annoyance. To his slight surprise, the bars slid open. It amazed him, sometimes, at the egocentricity of spellcasters. And yet, he had lost five good soldiers to that inane enchantment, something that he noted with annoyance. Three of the warriors had been of his own species; another, a cousin dog; and the last, a female piper spellcaster. 'All to save this one girl?' Yet…

"Are you done thinking yet?"

The girl. She just sat there looking out the window. Back straight and proud, hands set neatly on her lap. He quickly glanced over her, assessing her wounds. The one on her head seemed to be healed almost completely now, and the ones on her back and in her abdomen seemed completely healed. Well, at least he was assured that his healers were adept in their trade and actually useful. He checked her scent; there was the slight smell of decay that all humans had. That, he supposed, could not be helped with mortals. Still, she had cleaned up considerably. When he had her carried out of her cell by one of the medical squadrons, she had literally reeked of death and had numerous infected gashes on her. He raised his eyes to study her face- well, the side of her face anyway; she was stubbornly looking out the window. A feeling of irritation fleeted through him. Was this the thanks that she gave to her savior? And this was the trouble with prisoners of war. They might have healed on the outside, but it was the inside that you had to be careful with. After all, he did not want a mentally unstable person released into his lands and killing his people. There had been a few cases where those who had been scared by their experiences had tried to suppress the impulses but gradually weakened and just lost all control. It had been his duty to relieve them of their pain. It was a… distasteful… duty, but he would not back down from it. He was their lord, and he was responsible for them.

Which led him to the matter of the girl in front of him. She was beautiful, no doubt, in human standards and even possibly in the eyes of many demons. Thick but fine, black hair, a decent side view of the face, and a shapely body from what he could discern. 'If she ever becomes a prostitute,' he mused, 'she would be very sought after.' He arched an eyebrow. For some reason, he did not think that the girl would take kindly to being advised to take the path of a prostitute. 'Or if she were to seek the political field, she could be a rather useful tool.' He narrowed his eyes slightly. There was silence and then… 'Disgusting.' He had business to take care of, and, ironically enough, advising the girl in her future path was actually part of it.

Still, he could not shake the tone in which she had spoken in: haunted, tired, old- far too old for one of her age or for any human at all. But what right did she have to sound that way? Her troubles, even if true, according to her fellow rebels and activists, could be nothing. She knew nothing, this slip of a girl. She had no right to act as if she had lived as long as he had and witnessed just as much. Yet the feeling remained. He pushed his wariness aside and walked towards her.

"You are comfortable with your surroundings." It was more of a statement than a question. He stopped a few feet away from her. The room that he assigned her had been one of the larger and more comfortable ones in the West Wing. Not nearly as large or comfortable as those of the East and North Wings where the Royal Family and guests rested in respectively, but it was far better than those of the servants and soldiers that stayed in the castle. It was ornately decorated but simple: a large, comfortable bed hidden under a canopy supported by bamboo poles; three redwood chests containing any necessary clothing and shoes; a vanity on top of a dresser; and a door adjacent to the window leading to a personal indoor hot springs.

She finally turned to look at him. She had a rather sad smile on. She bowed her head slightly. "Yes, you are very kind." Too kind was not said. She returned to staring out the window.

The uneasiness returned. He had idea why. But along with it was some annoyance. He was getting tired of playing verbal at and mouse all day long with the other lords, with the people of the North, and with now this. He did not deal well with incompetence; he was a demon that expected his orders to be followed precisely and effectively and his questions answered promptly and thoroughly. He walked up next to her and also looked out the window. It was quite acceptable, really. The East was said to be the most prosperous, the best-off of the Four Lands, and he had demanded the best for the Eastern Castle. The room's view was one of the best in the castle; it showed the heart of his gardens, where the children of the castle would be seen with one of the healers or scholars in the mornings learning their respective skill and playing there in the afternoons. With his acute hearing, he could perceive his ward's delighted laughter as she ran from her retainer who grumbled after her. The girl next to him, however, made no noticeable movements at all.

"There has been some news circulating throughout the lands that may interest you." He spoke without warning. The cool breeze was welcome while standing in his formal, heavy clothing. He had always enjoyed the wind; it was one of the few inane pleasures that he allowed himself. When he had been younger, he had used to always run through the tallest trees near the castle, relishing the feeling of the wind as it swept past him. It made him feel free, just running for hours on end with no disturbances, and he only stopped when his mother came looking for him. She had never questioned his peculiar but harmless outings. As a child, he had always had the impression that she wished to do the same but would always hold herself back. At that time, he had been rather puzzled as to why she would deny herself such a simple thing. He now knew that feeling quite personally.

But that time of his life had passed long ago, and he no longer had that freedom as he did when he had been a child. Instead, he had battles to fight, people to govern, and a peace to maintain. It was often a tedious affair, especially with the minor houses constantly seeking favor and being surrounded by inept fools that fancied themselves as lords. Of course, his closest advisors- Kuze especially- were better than those idiots; he valued their opinions above any others. Although he took care to look at matters through the many angles, there were a few times that he would overlook something or that he would not think of some crucial factor. Those were the times when Kuze would shake his head and ask him if he was getting senile for missing such a matter. The girl, on the other hand, he suspected was already senile, for she still had not given a response to his statement, had not given any indication that she had heard what he had just said. He tried again. "The people of the North hail you as their new ruler."

He paused. The girl still gave no sign. Seriously now, the girl must have changed much There was no way that the North would want some mute, slow girl as their reigness. But the people were foolish like that. Fed with amazing tales and spreading them to one another, each person would tell a tale greater and more magical than the previous. To think, this girl had been the hope and one of the two most loved resistance leaders. If she had truly done all of those miracles and was truly that great, she would not be so weak now. She would not have let herself get caught. She would have stayed strong and fought. She would not look like this. He mentally shook himself. It was not like him to solidify such useless thoughts so vehemently, even if they were only in his mind.

"There is another name that the people often utter with yours." He turned again. If she did not answer, then he would leave. He had other pressing tasks that need his attention as well. "Do you know of him?"

Silence. The girl just kept on starring out the window. 'Pathetic.' he thought. 'So weak and pathetic.' He turned to leave.

"Kyo."

He stopped and turned to look at her. She was still staring out the window, no evidence betraying that she had said anything. But she had, and it was that name that the people had said with such hope and such sadness. It was that damnable and elusive name that had no face or house connected to it. 'Kyo.'

"What was that?" He had to force it out of her. While dealing with these ex-prisoners, he had found it best if he forced them to speak their minds. It helped relieve them of their 'burdens' and thus gave them a better peace of mind. The process was usually long and tedious, but it was his duty. 'Duty.' He thought with a slight frown. 'Such a double-edged word.'

She seemed to hesitate for a couple seconds, with her shoulders tensing and then slumping. She breathed in lightly and turned her head to look at him. Her face had a carefully neutral look to it; he supposed that, with this look, most humans would not be able to discern what she was thinking about.

"His name was Kyo. Kyo Amaru. He was the leader of the people. He was the light in the darkness. He was the sword that would destroy the chains. He was the shield that protected the people from the madman's dark magic. He was everything to me." She spoke in a clear but quiet voice, strong yet so weary. "And now, he is gone."

He arched an eyebrow. 'Gone?' The euphemism was all very well, but it could not change the fact that the man was dead. 'Humans and their frail minds. They always try to hide from reality, but the truth will always be there. You cannot hide from it; you must accept it and move on. Such foolish humans.'

"Do you know, Great Lord, what… angers… frustrates… despairs me the most?" She continued in her neutral voice, betraying none of her emotions, all the while matching him in her look. The humans had a saying that the eyes were the windows to a person's soul. He, himself, knew that it was folly to believe in such ridiculous notions- the cleverest and most dangerous minds always hid behind masks, whether they were of indifference, innocence, or even love- and preferred to use his own senses. His ears heard the steady, strong, yet lethargic beat of her heart. His nose detected the signs associated with weariness and sadness. His eyes saw that her eyes were shut even as they held the starring contest.

"I do not know," He said wondering where this question came from and where it was going. "But I assume that I will soon be enlightened."

His eyes detected a small uplifting of her lips at his words. Slight confusion filtered through him. He had not said anything to warrant such a response. He elegantly arched an eyebrow again and waited for the girl to explain herself. He was not disappointed.

"Well, we all know what happens when people start assuming stuff." She looked away, sideways. She smiled slightly. "It makes an ass out of you and me."

Of all the inane reasons. His face, trained through the many years, was blank; it was always blank. On the inside, he was slightly incredulous. And then he grew irritated. He was wasting his time here with this girl. The North would soon fall into civil war if a strong leader did not unite it, policies had to be made and renewed, his soldiers had to be compensated for their work, families had to be told of their losses, the mad lord's dealings had to be investigated, food and resources had to be sent to damaged and rebuilding villages, and here this girl- the hope of the North- was sprouting insignificant- albeit true- sayings. He was not amused.

"That may be the case, but I was right in my assumption." She turned her head back towards him. The smile was gone now. She seemed even more resigned than before with each passing word. "However, you have yet done your part in enlightening me."

And then, there was silence. Each party looked at one another, calculating, judging the other. He was waiting for the girl to speak. What would this human say? Humans were such weak things. They could not handle drastic changes; they could not control themselves. They were petty and selfish. Just as water ran downstream, the human heart also tended to revert to its basic instincts. War was the epitome of the reverting. During peace, people were civil. They declared that they worked together to better the entire community, that they would make the world better. However, during times of war, the ugly attributes reared their heads. People schemed, betrayed, and killed. Progress for the whole was forgotten; humans transformed into feral animals. No, drawing such an analogy was degrading even to the primitive animals. 'And even demons are contaminated by the humans' sordid actions.' He thought with disgust. The lesser demons, the ones that had sunk to the same level as humans, were always ready to steal and kill, and during the wars, they became even more troublesome and had to be taken care of. He wondered, was this what frustrated her the most? Was it human nature turning into its ugliest when the situation turned unfavorable? It was also in human nature to waste their time over such trivial matters. Demons, excluding those that the humans inadvertently subverted, accepted it as unavoidable; they made means to restore the order rather than just sitting there, despairing.

The girl's eyes hardened. Still, looking at him, she began to talk in a clear, strong voice- a necessary trait of a strong leader, of someone that had saved the North.

"The people say that they will always remember this fight- our fight. They say that they will never forget all of that of which we sacrificed; they say that they'll never forget the horrors of that monster. They say that they will always remember the Revolution." With each word, her voice became more and more emotional, more and more desperate, more and more frenzied. He just stood there, looking on impassively. Suddenly, the fire was gone, and the girl once again became a hollow shell filled with pain, regret, and sorrow. Her natural smell, the smell of fresh rain, receded slightly as the sadness invaded. The girl continued in a much more reserved manner. "But I know that they will forget. We'll just pass on as history. The future will not care. They might remember Kyo's name, maybe even mine; they might remember that Kyo was a great resistance leader that protected the North from an evil monster so many years ago, or, more likely, they will remember the great Eastern Lord that toppled the monster in the Northern Castle. Regardless, they will remember the idea, but they will forget the man himself. The North might hold celebrations in his name, but none of that matter."

She gave a sad, bitter laugh.

"In the years gone by, they will indifferently remember a great, strong, courageous honorable man who died fighting the great evil. This is what I feel over. Those people, they never saw how he bled, how he felt pain, how he loved. They do not know that because of a foolish, stupid girl, he was captured and killed."

She took in another long, shaky breath.

"The idea will live on, I guess. But you can't kiss an idea; you can't touch it or hold it." She held up her hand and stared at it as if she it was the strangest thing in the world. "People will remember him as a great man, but they'll forget that he was a real, living man. They won't realize that he had his own conflicts, his own fears, his own wants. They will forget, while I remember and wonder what could have been."

She was now staring hard at him. What was it that was running through her mind? The wariness had blown out into full uneasiness. It had been so long since he last felt this way. The last time, he had been a mere pup, a foolish pup. He suddenly felt old. He should not feel this way, so weary, so tired. Not to say that living for two thousand years was a long time for a demon of his caliber; he was actually considered very young for a higher demon. To a human, he looked like a very fit, very capable young man of about two and twenty give or take a few years. Of course, he was far from looking like a worthless human. He carried an air about himself, one of lethal skill, one of sharp intelligence. And one had only to take a look at his face to confirm that he was in fact a deadly demon, one that would not hesitate to rid one of one's life if he felt like it. On his face were markings, the markings of the royal blood. On any other face the blue crescent on the forehead would have seemed feminine, seemed misplaced and awkward; however, on his, they made him seem more powerful, more deadly, and more sinfully attractive.

"I pity you."

He arched an eyebrow. What nonsense was the girl spewing out now? The girl said that she pitied him? 'And how in your insignificant human life,' He thought bemusedly. 'did you come about to entertain such a ridiculous notion?' She cocked her head and frowned in rather contemplative manner.

"You demons…" She started in a quiet voice. "You demons are immortals."

He kept his thoughts to himself. No one, whether be he demon or be he human, was immortal. All men would die one day; it was just a matter of how he would die. Humans died due to old age, sicknesses, and in battle. Demons died only by the hands of another. He himself, most likely, would live for many more millennia before being killed in war by a younger, stronger demon. The oldest demon in history was still alive; he was a rabbit hermit high in the mountains of the Eastern Lands that kept his peace with everyone and stayed out of people's affairs. He had visited the hermit once. It had been during the beginning of his second spring. He had heard of the hermit and had wanted to see, in a rather sadistic curiosity, if such a demon was still alive after such a harsh, long winter- the winter that he hated the most- in the mountains all by himself. So, he had left without telling anyone, without any provisions, without anything except the clothes on his back and the sword that his father had given him as a mark of both surviving his first winter and of surpassing his instructors in his endeavors. He had left the useless sword.

He did not know how long it had taken him to find the hermit, but he did. The hermit lived in a hut on the side of one of the central most mountains. Needless to say, the hermit had survived. Outside the hut was a garden flourishing even though it was only spring. A handful of sheep and two cows had been grazing along the outskirts, and a natural river ran near the hut's location. He had found the hermit squatting in the gardens humming to himself… horribly off tune. That, the hermit had said when he had gotten over his suspicion of a young, but powerful wolf demon on his lands, was caused by his lack of interaction with other people, but it was a small price to pay in his mind. He did have to admit, it had amused him to see the hermit's reaction at noticing a predator demon a mere two feet behind him. Demons were much more attuned to their natural instincts than humans could ever dream of; however, this included the disadvantageous instincts as well as the favorable ones. Rabbit demons, whether of high or low class, innately maintained a wariness around wolf demons. He could remember hearing how quickly the hermit's heart had risen once he had sensed the danger behind him. He supposed that he had not helped either with his words 'Rabbit, I require some food.' He had been quite hungry traveling for so long and with as few breaks as possible. He was loathe to admit it but he had miscalculated and had pushed his body rather hard; although the Eastern Lands were the most peaceful of the lands, it was still very demanding on its inhabitants. When he had collapsed, the hermit had thought that he was attacking him and had quickly bounded away.

He did not remember what had happened, but when he regained consciousness, he was on a futon and the hermit was sitting by the fire, peering into a pot of some stew. After that, he and the hermit had gotten along quite well. He was the oldest demon in history, yet, to humans, he looked like an energetic grandfather figure just starting to grey, and his mind was as sharp as ever. They had talked of many things, and he had left enlightened.

"You live for so long." The girl was talking? He mentally shook himself. It was not like him to reminisce about his past. At times, it was necessary to draw upon past experiences to plan the future, but this was stepping over the line. This was almost as if he was living in the past, something that he did not think to do. He focused on girl. She seemed the same. What was she getting at? What did it matter if demons lived for so long? Of course, humans themselves lived for such a short amount of time. 'Fifty years?' That was such a short lifespan. What could humans hope to accomplish during fifty years? Many even died before then. Child mortality, he knew, was gradually lowering but it was still very high. Men died in battles; women died in childbirth. The girl's gaze was almost uncanny, the way she looked at him. What was she thinking, this slip of a girl? "Don't you ever get so lonely?"

That caught his attention. It was things like these were best accepted and then not thought about. However, the girl continued.

"Don't you ever just get so tired? Don't you wish that you could just give up, let what you've worked so hard for go to ruin and see what the people will say about you now? To see how well they get along now that you're not there saving their skins each time something bad happens?" Her voice was earnest, she was truly curious. There was, he noted, some bitterness apparent as well. "I've only lived for seventeen years- I can't even really remember the first three; I'm a child of summer. Ae, the war started before I was even born. You've lived for how many years? One hundred? Five hundred? One thousand? If I'd lived that long, I would've lost count at the hundreds, but I'm lucky; I'm just human, so I won't live that long. You've lived for so years; you've lived through so many winters. I've only heard stories about the horrors of winter."

She seemed to hesitate, looking as if she was about to say something before deciding otherwise. He, on the other hand, had a feeling that he would not like what the girl was about to say.

"But the point is, I've only lived for such a short amount of time, and I'm so tired of life already. You've lived for such a long time, and will continue to live long after I've passed away. How do you deal with the dealings of life? The betrayals, the frustrations, the unfairness, the backstabbing? There've been so many times when I've just wanted to pull my hair at and yell at people. Sometimes, it seemed that people were just so… stupid… or that they were trying to be difficult on purpose. Why couldn't they just do what we told them to?"

She sighed and bowed her head, breaking their eye contact. She gave a bitter laugh.

"Listen to me, I sound like some… I don't even know anymore. I don't even know what this was all for. In the beginning, I had been so excited. We all had been- me, Kyo, and all the others. We all thought that we'd vanquish the evil lord and become heroes. Sure, we'd have to fight some scary monsters sometimes, we'd have to struggle sometimes, but we'd make it in the end!"

The girl suddenly became very interested in the wood patterns of the floor. It was almost as if she believed that by studying the floor would give her the answers that she sought.

"Our first glimpse of the war, we'd bumped into a lost little girl. We walked with her to make sure that she would safely get back to her village... There was no more village. It had been burned to the ground. The men had all been beheaded. The women…" Her voice faltered.

"The women were being raped by the northern mercenaries." She looked at him, seeming surprised before shaking her head and turning to look at her hands.

"Yes, they were being raped. That was foolish of me. You're a lord, yourself. You've seen this happen so many times, it probably doesn't even affect you anymore. You probably even allow your men to do so. After all, the men have their needs, too."

He continued to stand there impassively. When she realized that he wasn't about to say anything, she continued with her story.

"We dismissed it as a bad beginning. We told one another that this was all the more reason to fight; we told each other that the more that we fought, the better things would get. We fought more, but it didn't get any better." Her voice began to sound impersonal, as if distancing herself from their memories would make their deaths easier to bear. "We lost the rouge first. He died protecting the sorceress. He said that it had been worth it, that he had finally found a cause and that he was dying happy. He told us to keep on fighting… But after the rouge's death, the sorceress just lost the will to fight anymore. She let herself get killed shortly after. Then, the cat demon, we lost her, too. And my baby, the fox demon. He was just a child. He died when word spread that we were the ones that were supposed to kill the northern lord and the lord sent fiends after us. The fiend- it played with him. Kyo and I- we couldn't do anything to save him. His screams, I can still hear them. I can't forget them; I can't forget him. I should've saved him, but I was weak. I was pathetic. Then, and then, it was just me and Kyo. Time passed, and then it was just me. Time passed more, and then it was just me in that cell."

She sounded absolutely dead at the moment. Her shoulders were slumped, her back bent dejectedly. 'And this is how the mighty hath fallen.' He thought. 'This is what war does to those not strong enough. This is what life does to everyone.'

"How do you do it?" She whispered, stealing a glance at his face. "How can you be so strong for such a long time? Immortality is such a burden, a curse. Your loved ones, they pass on; your followers, they fall behind. You are betrayed; you are talked about. You see so many horrible things. And you will continue to do so for a thousand more years, ten thousand more years, until the end of time. That is why I pity you demons. Humans may be weak, we might not be as fast, as smart, as strong as demons, but we never have to suffer for too long. You immortals, however, have to continue."

There was a length pause. She looked out her window again. The wind lightly caressed his face. What should he say to this? It did not matter. The girl was done speaking, and he had to attend to the other pressing tasks. He made to leave. However, at the doorway, he paused and looked back at the girl. She was still adamantly looking out the window. From his standpoint, he could still hear his ward running around in the gardens. Her laugh was a delighted one, one not troubled by the horrors of the said war. Yet, when he had found her… He frowned slightly. People all had their own problems- that was all he could say. Learn from the past and rectify anything that needed correcting.

"Girl." She turned around, looking surprised at seeing him still there. She cocked her head in question. "I do not allow my soldiers to partake in such distasteful actions such as raping women. And even if I did, none of my soldiers would do so. The East has honor."

If she kept opening and closing her mouth like that, he'd wager that she catch a fly soon. It was almost amusing to see how surprised she seemed. Did she truly think that all lords were like the Northern Lord? No, even that was unfair to the Northern Lord; before his fall, he had been a great ally and an honorable lord. 'That is why I must investigate what instigated his change.' He mentally frowned. 'Later, however. After I am done with this girl. She must either accept the North or bequeath it to another capable person.'

"And you do not give enough credit to the North. The North are an independent group; the people themselves, humans and demons alike, are honorable and do what they think is right. Those men that you saw, I doubt any were truly of the North. They were most likely mercenaries from across the Great Waters to the north of the Four Lands. And if it had not been for the northern lord's calling of those fiends, I suspect that there would have had been no war at all- or at the very least, a very short war- a year at most, not the six and twenty."

The girl was sitting there, looking rather confused and struggling to understand why he was saying this. 'Humans are too slow. I should just appoint one of my commanders as the new Northern Lord.' However, the humans of the North would most likely object to such a decision. Even now, they demanded for this girl. 'This weak human girl.' He had no idea as to why the demon lords were also throwing their favor for this girl. His agents stationed in the North had told him of some dog demon lord that openly and, much more to the point, aggressively called for her as the North's new sovereigness. Although they preferred their own clan lordships and did not hold any positions in the actual northern rule, dogs were about one eight of the demon population in the North and were respected by their fellow demons. If the dogs advocated this girl and vociferously voiced their support, the rest of the demonic North could be swayed and could soon follow. He mentally sighed. He had to attend to his other tasks.

"You doubt why I am even bothering to explain to you these things. Don't act so surprised, first of all." She quickly regained her composure. 'Much better.' "This is where demons and humans differ, girl. Don't wallow in the past. Learn from it. Think of it. Plan future endeavors using your experiences based on it, but never live in it. It has gone and passed. There is nothing that you could do to change; in fact, don't even think about changing the past. Foolish people, mostly humans but a few demons as well, have tried to, but it changes nothing. And if others say that you are too serious or that you think too much, ignore them, because you will be right in the end."

With each word that he said, she seemed to understand a bit more, to let go some more. With each sentence, she seemed to gain some color back, to seem more tangible. With each phrase, she seemed to fit the description of how the North had described her. Did such useless words really have that much of an effect on her? No matter. As long as she did as her role demanded, it was no concern of his.

"Accept the challenges of life and move on. Find ways to continue; fight to continue. You were the weakest of the group, the human with no real power, I gather, yet only you survived. Do not let your group's efforts go in vain. Could you forgive yourself if all that they sacrificed their lives for was all for naught? Could you?"

All she did was look at him. She did not answer him, for there was no need. They both knew the answer. He knew the answer, for he had been asked the same question before. 'Mother.' He thought ephemerally. 'You would have been amused by this girl. She reminds me so much of those birds with the broken wings that you used to treat.'

"I…" She stood up and started walking towards him. She was truly nervous. Her apprehension literally rolled off her in waves. A rather strange scent, that. He decided that he preferred her neutral scent. "What should I do?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You know what you should do. It is not my place to tell you what you should or should not do."

And still she hesitated. He mentally sighed. This was a human, after all, that he was dealing with. "The North hails you as their new sovereigness. It would be best to not let them down."

"I…" The hesitation again. Humans could be so confident one moment and so torn the next. He waited for her to continue. "I can't govern the North. I wouldn't know what to do. I would be a horrible ruler. I-"

He interrupted her. "The East would lend you its support." That shut her up rather well. "The Northern people would support you; the West and the South would throw their support for you as well once the East declares. I will personally help you during the starting stages. You have an ally in the East."

She looked long and hard at him. Just as he was starting to lose his patience, she bowed. "Thank you, Great Lord." And she stood up with a small smile on her face. 'Finally.' He was not amused. 'The reconstruction of the North will be long with this girl in charge.' More likely than not, he would have to implement most of the policies himself and just have her sign the treaties. He truly did desire a great lord to take the spot of the old, but based on what he had seen today, he would not be surprised if the girl fell short of his expectations. She did not have the expertise, the training, or the experience that the other lords and he himself had. She had not been weaned to become a ruler of the people. She was vulnerable, fresh from the loss of her own allies, and suspicious towards everyone. And most importantly, she did not feel the chains of duty yet. She had actually questioned whether or not he had ever felt the urge to simply quit on his people and leave them to fend for themselves. 'Ridiculous.' That was an impossible occurrence. 'I am honor-bound to these people.'

"We shall begin preparations for your acceptance by the people starting on the night of the blue moon. You'll have eight days until then." He walked out the door and proceeded to his private studies. He now knew why he had felt such wariness around the girl. 'You immortals have to continue indeed.' He sighed. The girl thought too much; some things are just better left not thought of and others not completed. 'Besides, Mother, I am continuing. I would be a fool to let your death go in vain.'