Lonelywerewolf: This is just a random one-shot that I thought, it is an obvious tactician angst. So anyway, hope you enjoy, and review...
Just to Die Alone
Tacticians know the rules of their trade by heart. Simple rules that they must fellow in order to continue with their careers and at times to continue on living. We, are the blood of the battlefield, the unknown fiends, or the so-called demons of destruction, and to live with those names is to live with our destiny and our trade. We, are wonders of the human mind, in such sense that we destroy our brothers and sisters with the simple silent word, a silent strategy, aimed with no ill will intended. We only know how to die alone. Friends, family, allies, are as of nothing to us, as if the man on the other side of the road were the savior of the village being attacked by bandits than the strategist themselves.
Tacticians are sometimes seen as weak, which could be possibly true. We, of frail body, but of strong mind. Those who survive the harshness of a trip, would they live to survive the next, and the one after? Maidens don't call to us, unlike generals, who with our minds and skills win the simple or difficult battle before them. And then, we die alone. Never with the company of such a fine wife, despised by an old friend. Such is the life we live and cannot be broken or altered in a way. We hold the life of the men and women by a small thread, knowing that cutting it would be the only mean to survive, but was he or she worth dying for? No one questions our ability until it is too late.
This rules that we follow make us miserable, but then, we just die alone in this world, without a hand to hold, without a friend to see. The rules we follow make us what we are, exploit us like the axe man exploits his axe. But, in the end, what we wish is gone, and our life wasted, was it just that we tacticians want is to die alone?