Karel's Recollection

by jpsmusic

Karel.. a blood thirsty Myrmidon.. this is my version of his past, and how a critical point in his life makes him realize everything that has happened to him.. that has made him, created him.. to be who he is..

1. Scene I

Karol's Recollection©

A Fire Emblem Fan Fiction

Scene I: Ironic Puddles

I regret nothing. There hasn't been a point in my life, in which I would re-trace my mournful tread differently. If I would to go back, I would strive to summit to my old customs, my conventional way of bloodlust and death… Could I possibly kill another soul again, as it begs for life upon the mercy of my silver? Do I slice through, impale less? No. Nothing will change again… It's not as if I could. I lay here on the ground, in a warm puddle… a puddle of red, a sorrowful memory of the merciless judging I have committed in a steadfast way throughout my life strand. How could one man alone bear this? The weights of the souls from Styx, waiting for me to join them, the demon I have become. That's why I lay here now. I have faltered and ended up stricken, beat down hard. My earthly shell released by this un-sounding failure. How could a single person's life change so drastically, so quickly? How did I not see this coming? I always had my foreboding thoughts about an incident that may appear so slyly, so cunningly, that it would stab me in the back. It's all over now, what left do I live for, Oseas? What about Oseas, the closest thing I have to call my companion, a friend. He's always been there for me, even during the most drastic times when I took advantage of my abilities, disregarded our Swordmaster, and headed into battle without plan, without hesitation, without the proper tactics need to be unveiled to succeed in any battle such as thy. Every movement should be strategically planned, planned to the precise point of victory, the sweet and irony taste of victory; The last slice through the armor, the flow flooding forever, the endless taste of iron… the lust of iron… As of now, I taste defeat, my own iron, my never ending bloodlust continuing to perceive no end. And as my thoughts of my final breaths, as my own defeat fills and stifles my gasps for air, my last journey seems to flash before, as I think of all the times I've spent, all of my victories, all of the iron.