Hi, thanks for the comments and support so far. I appreciate them all. Questions will be answered soon. And I'd love to hear some theories you have for this story :)
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"I am the General who shall soon invade your land."
The hilarity of this statement escaped me and I laughed openly. My fellow captives shared my sentiments and joined me. This action caused the General and his soldiers' confusion. However their momentary confusion was replaced by anger as soldiers pulled us from our seats on the ground only to shove us back again. This made us laughed even harder much to their annoyance.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" They asked in unison, hands tightly grasping their choice of weapon. It was the lifted hand of their commander that stopped their obvious desire to slaughter us.
Amidst the laughter and confusion, I saw an arrow fast approaching in the direction of the General as he walk towards us. I instinctively lunged forward and instead of hitting the aimed target it killed my fellow captive. His fall signaled the end of our amusement and instead we were dragged away into safety as other soldiers cautiously surveyed their surrounding for any signs of incoming attacks.
"You traitor! Why did you do save their General? Who knows it can be our comrades…" were the first words hissed at me by the sole companion I had in this mission. I ignored him as I locked my stare ahead—towards those seemingly burning brown eyes of their General who, even as he was kneeling on the ground with his head low, looked as formidable as I first saw him. There were questions in his eyes and I decided to answer it despite our current situation.
"I didn't let it hit you," I began to say as I untangled myself from my binds; I stood up without any fear of another arrow flying at my direction, "simply because I wanted to slay you myself for spouting such nonsense." I gave him a smirk as I charged past them and onwards the forest I knew the invader was hiding.
A scream was heard and moments later I came back with the head of the archer which I assumed to be from the East. I tossed it on the General's feet and told him nonchalantly. "The Northern Kingdom won't be invaded by the likes of you."
I faced my comrade only to find him lifeless on the ground with his weapon drawn. It was an insane move to attack an enemy commander with his soldiers surrounding him in my opinion, but what can I say really? I did provoke that very same commander whose face now was painted with sheer amusement.
"A brave punk, eh?" And with a nod I was hit at the back of my neck and I passed out.
Xxx
I woke up in the enemy tent. It housed several weaponries many of which I'm not familiar with, scrolls and maps laid on top of a wooden table and a man whose face I can hardly recognize with only a lamp illuminating the tent.
"Good. You're awake. We shall talk but first you'll need to eat." He gestured to another small table at the corner. "Please have a seat."
I stared at the variety of meals on top of the table apprehensively but my stomach suddenly grumbled. My blush was luckily hidden by the room's darkness.
"Don't worry. There's no poison in your food. You should know by now I'm not the type of person who would use such methods."
"I don't know you that well."
"That is true. But you must have sensed it, yes?" He walked closer with a lamp closed to his face, from where I'm standing he appeared to be the god of death only instead of wielding a scythe he was carrying a lamp.
I sat down obediently, admitting to myself and to him that he was correct: I sensed it—the aura of a true warrior. This man owned the heart of a true warrior: one who doesn't fear to wield his blade to survive; a person who wouldn't bow his head to anyone but his king; a soldier whose loyalty is thicker than blood; a warrior who would bit his tongue and bleed to death than confess to an enemy; a man who breathes life and death even in his sleep.
The man before me was a warrior like no other. It was true that our people had warriors whose visages were that of a true warrior and their skills were without a doubt of a true warrior. But I've never seen who carries the kind of aura this man had—a true warrior of death.
Once there was a banquet in the palace and we were luckily invited. I saw the King and felt his immense presence, one that was befitting of a King. He was kind, warm and inviting and yet deep inside you can sense that he can be cruel when he needed to be. He was the King beloved by many and respected of all. Whenever I see him, I have this urge to believe, to hope and to live. But then I took a glance of this General and all I could think of was death. The smell of blood lingers in every stoma of his body though there were no blood seeping through it. His stance was always guarded and calculated; always expecting for an attack. And his eyes, those eyes were the right shade of brown to be confused with red, of fire. Maybe his eyes were truly burning. In his eyes, I wondered, what do they see? Is there any hue other than red?
"Do not be afraid, punk."
It was easier to say I was not but my cautious eyes told him my anxiety. His overwhelming presence scared me. In here, in this very same tent I felt I was trapped. Like a wild beast finally cornered by a hunter. I was the prey. I was his prey.
He sat casually on a stool and popped a grape in his mouth, still eyeing with mirth. His eyes glinted with humor and curiousity.
Oh I hate this kind of man!
"What the hell are you laughing at?" I yelled at him while I took my seat and followed suit, eating grapes while apprehensively waiting for a devastating blow.
"Who says I'm laughing? Do you hear me laughing?"
"No, I don't but I can see your eyes smiling."
He stopped eating, lifted an empty cup and filled it with wine. He swirled it pensively before answering, "Are they? Huh…"
Silence ensued and I ate everything on the table while he continued to watch me. By then I shrugged off the feeling that I was being fatten up like a pig before I get slaughtered and roasted. I was hungry and despite him being the enemy I knew he won't do an underhand trick such as poison. Besides I was readying myself and boosting my energy so when the time comes, I will escape…after I have his head.
"If you're thinking of having my head then forget about it."
I choke excessively because of what he said. I drank a jug of wine to clear the blockage in my throat. When I eyed him, expecting to see those infuriating smiling eyes, what I saw was his eyes carrying a significant amount of regret. Regret. I never thought I would see it from someone like him. But it was suddenly gone as fast as I saw it emerged. It was replaced by a conviction of a man whose life had been all about death.
"I won't die until I see my daughter safe," he said, almost in a whisper that I barely heard it.
"What?" I asked, unsure whether he really intended for me to hear those words.
Then he got up, obviously wanting to change the topic and ushered me to the longer and bigger table. By this time I was still apprehensive of him but what can I do? I was captured and for some reason this man…I didn't think he was a bad person. Ridiculous thought but when I saw those flicker of regret in his eyes, I thought of him as human. Human. Another disturbing thought. Is he even human?
My eyes landed upon a mirror and it struck me when I posed the same question: Am I even human? I stared at my reflection, urging it to give an answer but to no avail. I, who was a loyal soldier of the North, casually kill people by justifying it as my way to defend my country. But deep inside I knew that I liked it—killing people. The thrill of fighting a strong opponent, of their blood trickling down their skin and onto my blade, of their eyes rolling off to the back of their head before they staggered backwards and fall to the ground lifelessly. I liked it…No, I loved it. I craved for it. For the past decade, I had lived because of it. Defending the country and the welfare of its citizen was my valid excuse or rather my defence as to why I need to kill. When in fact, that I did all those things because my soul wanted it. My soul was like an unfed baby, crying without shame until it was fed, but it won't be satisfied easily. After dozing off for a little while, the hunger will come back and the baby will cry again. My soul instinctively cries for blood, for battle, for death.
"Finally realizing who you are?" I was startled when I saw him hovering behind me, only a snap of his hand to my head and I could be dead, but what startled me the most was the reflection of him and me in the mirror: our images were…the same.
Is this the true me…?
"I never expected to find a fellow Southern in this land…" he smirked as he sauntered to the island of maps and scrolls.
"I'm not the same as you! I'm a Northern!" I shouted, blood boiling with anger because of his suggestion that he and I were of the same race. Plus my mind was still racing with the reflection I saw. It terrified me for some reason.
He took a glimpse of me from head to toe, shrugged and continued reading, "You may not look like us physically but my guts say your blood is that of a Southern warrior."
"Your guts have it wrong then," I said, fury pouring out in every breath I take.
"Alright then. Maybe I had it wrong, take a seat will you and calm down before you do anything drastic." He told me although a command and a threat was hidden there: Calm down or else…
Normally I wouldn't be the type who would blindly follow a command but just like when I took a seat when he offered me to eat, I followed because I knew that here in this tent, in this very moment, I was the prey and he was the predator. I had no other choice. I relented without another word.
"Good then. You're a warrior who knows how to use her head." Was that a compliment I just heard from his mouth? Apparently it was because he gave me a grin before turning serious and asked me, "So are you willing to give me aid in conquering your land?"
"Don't be stupid. Of course not," I said.
"Alright then." He folded some stuff and was headed out of the tent.
"That was it?" I asked, clearly baffled with the turn of events.
"Yes, I knew from the moment you tossed that head on my feet that you're a warrior who's willing to die for her Kingdom."
"And?" I questioned. Suddenly I was well aware of the sudden drop of temperature in the air, making me more cautious than I was before.
"And," he gave me a brief unsympathetic smile, "you're going to die because of it."
