May 6th, 1800
...
"A war is about to happen... A war between humans and Burmecians, only an idiot can't see!"
I told them years ago. My friends, familiars, the Dragoons, the Council, everyone I knew was aware of said rumors spreading through the entire Burmecia and it was a matter of time until they reached the King. In his statement, he proclaimed that our nation was properly equipped to deal with any kind of calamity, public or external.
The King, as we know, was one of the first to flee during the invasion, leaving behind the men who swore to protect his life. Was it worth it to serve a kingdom without a ruler? Was it needed to sacrifice their lives to save someone who offered no gratitude in return?
My father was one of those men. My brother followed my father's footsteps. Was this even a war? One side had more power than the other. We were at a disadvantage, but it didn't matter. None of this matters! This neighborhood and the buildings in it, standing in here for a hundred years, it didn't matter whose families lived inside them, it didn't matter who could run or who could not, it did not matter if we were living our lives when everything happened, they just did not care!
"Only an idiot can't see", I said. Sir Fratley was not an idiot, he knew very well that the tension was unbearable, yet he was foolish enough to believe he could prevent a massive conflict all by himself, and what he got from his efforts? A memory loss, a lack of identity and people who remind him of what a great person he was and everytime it feels like they're talking about someone else. I know it because he saved my life once, and he doesn't even know.
It was during a riot years ago. A nest of Ironites was found below some abandoned houses and they were everywhere soon afterwards. Like, everywhere, one of them almost bit my arm if it was not for a javelin thrown right in the creature's jaws. I got one of their teeth as a memento, and how I wish it was worth to be used as a weapon against one of those Alexandrian bastards. I was out of home when it happened, it simply happened and somehow I'm alive, the troops were occupied with the more populated areas and I just had visited my aunt before hell broke loose.
My aunt is doing fine, though I can't say the same about the other relatives.
I know we did a lot of awful things too, the Burmecians are not victims at all. We did worse, we invaded Alexandria a couple of times, we destroyed their homes and slew their people too, but we're talking about soldiers from centuries ago, not my mother who was sewing some clothing for her soon to be born nephew, not my cousin who had just bought a new house to live with his wife, not my great uncle whose left eye had gone completely blind, they had nothing to do with this!
And yet, this is what we get for the sins of our fathers.
The only noise I hear comes from the rain. Everything's so quiet tonight, a lot of people used to walk those streets and now they're either in hiding or yet to be found or buried in the graveyard or they're gone. Completely gone. Disintegrated, no sign of flesh or bone or whatever makes a Burmecian.