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A Dead Warriors Message
Chapter 3. The Third War.

Chapter 3. The Third War.

A pavilion filled with the cold dark and sprinkled with pits of bright fire. The sky is a trepid dark grey but whether caused by the time or the arduous amount of falling snow was unknown. It was time to huddle in houses or sheds wearing blankets around a fire.

The pavilion held nearly two hundred men and young boys. The younger faces were excited to hear the tales that were spread.

The reason for such a gathering is war. The Lord had challenged another foe to battle.

In this pavilion warriors and heroes would impart their stories to the youth. Their stories filled with glory and claims of fame would excite any young man present. They would soon fight on the battlefield and experience war themselves.

Groups of young men and old warriors would huddle around the fire’s and drink while listening to tales and legends.

All of the warriors and children were enjoying themselves greatly. However, one man was different.

He sat alone at a fire as none had dared to approach him. His gray hair despite his age was not the reason he stood out.

The man’s eyes were fixed deeply in the flickering fire. Despite the cold he does not seem to bathe in the fire's warmth or glow. His face indifferent to the world around him.

Time passes and stories grow repetitive, however the excitement does not die. It was seemingly the end of the gathering, however one warrior had yet to share his tale.

Whispers fill the crowd, for the most anticipated warrior’s tale was soon to come. A tall man stands and walks over to the listless warrior.

“Captain Gunnar, it's your turn.” All the heads turn, and joy fills every young man's face. The gray haired warrior stands and slowly makes his way to the stage. All the while more rumors fill the crowd.

“It’s the Hero.”

“Have you heard, he led a team of twenty to capture a fully armed castle.”

“They say he even killed a giant.”

“Don’t you know the reason he looks so sad, it’s because he lives on the battlefield.”

“You haven’t heard the stories from the recent war have you? I swear my uncle told me-”

Rumors that were not entirely accurate filled the crowd. The Warrior walks slowly indifferent to such matters. Eventually the Warrior makes his way onto the stage, as he does many young men feel their hearts about to pop from excitement.

“I am Warrior Gunnar, many call me a hero, however I am no such thing.” The words were a bucket of cold water on the fiery crowd. The man in front of them was a hero and all held a great respect for him. However the man himself was not awe inspiring or looked heroic at all. His face, emotionless, was covered in scars.

Warrior Gunnar took off his jacket and shirt to reveal his upper body. A shock went through the crowd. It was rare to find a part of his muscular upper body that was not scarred.

Cheers filled the crowd after the initial shock, scars were a warriors pride. The proof of many hard battles.

“War is not such a simple thing. You fight, You win, You lose. Glory does not come from killing the enemy. Fame does not come from losing. War is a battle for life not fame and glory.” The entire crowd was enticed by the Warriors words. Every breath bated in wait of some deeper meaning.

However, there were few that understood his words. Warrior Gunnar stood still in the cold weather with a steeled discipline. And then he began his tale.

A gathering similar to this one, few took the words I said to heart. My reputation horrible from my personality.

Once again we gathered in a line in front of our village's one mirror. I looked upon my own face, it was emotionless and covered in scars. The appearance I took pride in years ago was deeply obscured.

When it was time for new warriors to be born many eyes avoided mine. The warriors did not desire for me to tie their warriors tie.

I gave no care and tied a few without deep motive. Overall it was a happy occasion for the warriors with many cheerful preparations to go to war. My words did not lie upon them.

It was two months before we made it to the war front. Suspiciously there was no conflict during this time. We had lots of food and were able to sleep well, a good contrast to the previous war.

We reached the main camp on the battlefront and we were assigned to split into troops. While waiting for assignments I was called to the general’s tent.

When I walked in I noticed a well dressed man sitting on a big bench. He was old and wearing a long black cloak. Standing behind him was a familiar knight. Nobody else was sitting, even commanders and generals.

I quickly knelt and greeted the lord. He was satisfied with my manner and allowed me to rise. He told me I would be assigned as a captain of a unit of twenty elite men. Our mission was to sneak behind enemy lines and sabotage their supply.

I didn’t dare refuse. He then thanked me for my effort in the previous war and dismissed me.

I then learned from the generals the specifics of my mission. I engraved all the important information into my mind and studied harder.

I found myself wanting to know what we were fighting for. I asked around and found out that the opposing noble had tried to enslave our people. I was furious with this.

It was soon after that I would meet my twenty elite warriors. To my surprise they treated me with great respect. No questions to my words and obedience like a dog.

I decided to treat my men well at least while I could.

To my surprise they were not extravagant with alcohol or food. They did not indulge in useless pleasures and trained regularly. I got the impression that they were some of the lords best men, and I would be the one to lead them. The lord had expectations for me and I wondered why he would place such a mission upon myself.

Two weeks later we left the encampment. Our route would take us far east before heading northwest to the enemy. With the experience of our group we were able to move quickly. It was also due to our minimal supplies thus discarding any equipment that was needed for war and not sabotage.

Three days after we had left the main camp we encountered enemy troops. Because of our low numbers and expertise we were able to go unnoticed. We hid in trees and brush as the enemy unknowingly passed by.

I observed the enemy. They numbered thirty, a small number unless on a mission similar to our own. This was still our territory portraying their ambitions. Their equipment also suggested espionage or sabotage.

After they left I decided to ambush them, my men obedient.

We prepared and moved to surround them at night. We hid in trees with arrows and bushes with knives. Three enemy men split off in the night to relieve themselves. Our skill did not allow their return.

I waited while trying to find the opportune moment to strike. I eventually heard a yawn from in the camp as a muscular man rose out of a small tent.

My instincts started to yell at me. I noticed some of the other men feeling it as well.

I raised my arm receiving the attention of my men and threw it downward toward the small camp. Instantly several arrows flew into guards hitting weak points and killing them near instantly.

The Muscular Man instantly let out a yell waking the others. I quickly pulled out my own bow and drew an arrow. I shot it at the Muscular Man however he blocked it with a shield.

Our arrows continued to fly and many enemies were defeated.

My men first targeted whoever was trying to pick up a bow. This made it nearly impossible for the enemy to fight back.

Eventually the only enemy left was the muscular man. He had successfully blocked a dozen arrows, evident by their remains on his shield and around his feet. I ordered for more arrows to fly at the same time. He would be unable to block all directions at once.

The arrows flew and he was hit by an arrow in the leg, arm and two in the back. However it seemed like these arrows did little damage. The Muscular Man charged closer to the group of trees I was in. Beneath our trees were two of my men prepared for combat.

I had the feeling they would die if encountered by the man. I prepared one last arrow and carefully aimed at his charging body.

I let the arrow fly and it was going to hit its mark, however at the last second he moved his head out of the way.

Immediately this man felt more dangerous. In two mere seconds he was already at range of the men.

Fear welled up inside me, I would not allow my men to die. They were my responsibility, the closest thing to friends I had in a while. My body sprung to action following instinct instead of reason. I thrust myself off the tree downwards, flying too fast to think. My sword prepared before thrust forward faster than an arrow. The Muscular Man noticed my advance and prepared a shield to combat my thrust.

My force however was too strong and my sword sunk through his shield into his chest. Then the rest of my body crashed into him creating a huge crack sound. It was difficult but I quickly regained my wandering senses.

Next thing I knew I was sitting against a tree with a warrior looking after me. The Muscular Man lay dead with a dagger in his neck. I let out a deep sigh and told my team to secure the area while recovering supplies.

Meanwhile I checked my body for injuries. Luckily the Muscular Man had taken most of the impact of the fall and I was left without any broken bones. No other man in my squad was injured, only my superficial injuries were results of the battle.

The enemy's supply gave us little we did not already have.

The battle gave nearly nothing to our squads cause, however I had hoped it was for the better of the entire war.

We continued east with little battle and none as fierce as the Muscular Man. We eventually got to the point where we had to cross into enemy territory.

I decided to rest for a day before starting. After all, the time in enemy territory would be many times more stressful.

We continued cautiously northwest with no trouble, in fact it was too easy. Our team was now within half a day's reach of enemy troops, as well as the target of our mission.

I ordered to hide cautiously, we were too close to the enemy. We observed for another day quickly finding our target. We needed to sabotage supplies to give an advantage to our side of the war.

Our specific target was a set of granaries. A huge amount of food was contained there. If something were to happen to it, the tides of war might just change.

It turned to night once again and I quickly explained my plan. We headed out quietly over the cover of night. We had to be careful if we got caught we would definitely fail our mission.

Luckily the huge amount of enemy troops were mainly quartered far away.

That left about ten guards stationed to defend the granaries.

Everything was falling into place, many conditions filled that made the mission possible.

My twenty men slowly and stealthily moved closer.

The next hurdle, all ten men needed to be killed without alerting anyone.

Luckily they were stationed at different entrances to each granary.

My men silently split in pairs and each took a man. I gave the order to execute when ready. Small thunk noises were heard when arrows flew into wooden doors after exiting the necks of guards. Any guards not killed by arrows were quickly rushed and killed with a knife.

I felt slightly relieved at the success however our job was not over.

We then dragged the bodies inside and hid them amongst the grain. It would be bad if they were found.

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We set fire to the insides of each granary and ran off to hide.

If the fires were found too early they could potentially be put out. We hid in a small ditch a little far from the granaries.

If the fire was successful we could leave quickly and covertly.

About ten minutes later there were yells and shouts. I checked the granaries and they were almost entirely covered in flames. Impossible to put out without the work of a hundred men.

I told my team that we were successful and we would hide for another five minutes before leaving.

The time stretched into a near eternity. Near the end I once again poked my head out to check on the granaries. They were all ablaze, impossible to recover at this point.

However, something was off. I realized and quickly ordered a retreat. There were too few men around the fire.

We got out of the ditch and began to run towards the forest.

Unfortunately, nearly two hundred enemy soldiers were waiting for us. A long line of soldiers with trained arrows pointed at us.

Retreat was no longer an option. Advancing would mean death.

With no correct answer I froze. My last bastion of calmness came from the fact that we had completed our mission.

However, what of the men who had followed my order? What of my responsibility when I promised to lead them? The connections I had built? Their future?

Suddenly a yell came from the enemy side and dozens of shields came rushing towards us in a trained formation.

Tall shields blocked anything from attacking us. Soon a perfect wall surrounded us. We were as good as dead. I fell to my knees and despaired. All the battles before had at least a little chance of success or retreat.

Before I could think further the wall of shields was opened slightly to reveal a man. The man wielded no visible weapon. He wore not armor, but fanciful robes.

He ordered us to put down our weapons and we could live as prisoners. I walked up to the man with a fire in my eyes. I asked him if he was serious.

He said he was and his eyes did not disagree. His eyes are fierce but with honor. I could not allow my men to die for nothing.

I ordered a surrender, my men dropped their weapons begrudgingly. I'm sure all of them would have fought to our last with me. However I could not accept it.

We were all forced to kneel in a circle and were chained.

Slowly walked to cells and abandoned. We lay in the darkness separated and shamed. We lived but with what honor?

It was two days before anything happened. I had gotten literal scraps for food. No communication with others, only rumors.

I was then dragged to a room with a heavy iron door.

Inside was an almost pure white marble floor and walls. Only the ceiling was pure black rock.

In the room were 21 steel chairs. In one of the chairs a bloodied body.

I recognized it as one of my men. He had too much blood covering him.

I immediately ran up to him and checked on him. He was still alive just barely breathing.

I took a deep breath and stared with deep eyes of hatred at the guard who brought me to this room.

He told me to sit in a specific chair. It was defined in front of the others. I sat begrudgingly and was locked in place with chains.

I was then left. Silence filled the perfectly isolated room. I could hear no noise outside. It was hard to tell time in the room but eventually the heavy iron door opened again.

All of my other men were brought in one by one. They kept silent despite the body and were all locked into chairs.

I told them he was alive but silent otherwise. I was slightly relieved when all twenty of us were gathered, we were all alive. However I knew that what came next would be worse.

However nothing happened at least for that day.

I considered how scary this room was.

First marble floors were ridiculously expensive, probably only the lord had some. I doubted the black rock roof was any cheaper. Next iron chairs, iron wasn’t too expensive but it was crazy to use them as chairs especially during wartime. And the door, it was made out of iron too. Someone had plunged so much money into this room. Not for some type of reception room, but for a torture chamber.

It was seemingly the next day when we heard the iron door budge open.

The door made a giant screeching noise as it scratched the floor while opening.

Then a man dressed in pure white stumbled in. He wore a long robe without any pockets and he carried a small box by his side. The room was lit poorly by a few torches but as soon as he walked in two servant boys lit the rest of them.The way he walked could only be considered monstrous. It looked like he was stumbling, but a closer look showed that each of his limbs moved crazily on their own with no sense of coordination.

Once the man got close enough you could see his face. He had small whiffs of white hair and his face was splattered with scars.

He walked right in front of me and said in a screechy voice.

“My name is Doctor Ridge.”

I did not respond, showing my opposition. He was not interested in anything and glanced off to a blank wall. He pulled out of his box a big juicy turkey leg perfectly cooked. He thrust it in my mouth without hesitation. He said it was okay and not poisoned. I reluctantly ate the turkey leg. I said I wouldn't tell him anything. He ignored me and moved on to the next person. I was the only one who got a turkey leg, my men got small scraps of old bread.

I asked him what he wanted. He turned only his face, like an owl, to look at me and replied. “Don't you already know.”

I assumed he wanted information. What else would make them spare their enemy.

His last words before leaving were.

“We start tomorrow.”

The two servants put out most of the lights leaving the room in near darkness. Doctor Ridge then left stumbling with his weird stagger that felt oddly familiar.

The next day at some point the door screeched open again. The two servant boys ran in and lit the remaining torches. Doctor Ridge stumbled in again. He fed me a turkey leg and my men scraps of bread.

He screeched.

“Let's begin.”

He stood before me and put down the box he carried. Because of my seated position I could not see inside the box. His arm suddenly shot into the box while the rest of his body remained still. His movements were too weird, they were also somehow familiar.

He pulled out a giant pair of iron pliers. His hand shot out and grabbed my left hand. He used the pliers and tore off one of my fingernails. He placed the pliers in the box and grabbed his next tool, a whip. He whipped me all over my body. Once he seemed satisfied he placed the whip back in the box. The next tool was a thick needle, big enough to be used as a dagger. He then stabbed specific points of my body. Under my chair a small pile of blood started to pool. Doctor Ridge laughed and put the needle back in the box.

He gave his orders leaving long spaces in between his words.

I will come each day…

I will pull a nail each day from you…

Once all your nails are gone I will let all of you go…

I will only torture you alone…

Unless…

You give up…

You yell…

Or you pass out…

He gave us a small hope. Likely false.

He then left the room and the lights were dimmed. Nobody in the room had the courage to talk.

I only steeled my will.

Each day he came.

Each day he gave us food.

Each day he tortured me and me alone.

Each day I did not give up.

Each day I did not yell.

Each day I did not pass out.

Only two fingernails left. It was almost over.

I twitched at the opening of the door. The screeching noise reminded me of the day before it. Doctor Ridge stumbled in with his weird walk, each limb thinking for itself. Doctor Ridge wore a clean new white cloak each day.

He quickly fed me and my men excited to continue with his fun. He stumbled, careful not to slip on the pool of blood that dyed the white floors red. He then walked around the room admiring the walls splattered with my red.

He then promptly scattered over to me and like a child happily took a toy from his box.

He plucked another nail.

He giggled.

He whipped me.

He laughed.

He stabbed me with needles.

He chuckled.

He cut my fingers, hands, arms, and legs.

He moaned in ecstasy.

The door left wide open felt so far away.

A hope that I knew was merely an illusion. An Illusion to make it more painful.

Dr. Ridge cheerfully walked around the room admiring everything. The walls splattered with drops of malice. The floor, a lake of my pain. Our faces, terrified and full of despair. My face, nearly dead and cold. He left the room, his white coat dyed red.

The next day. The screech of the door opening triggered pain. However it would be the last day. I only had one fingernail left. Doctor Ridge stumbled into the room. His legs walking in different directions suddenly, each out of pace with the other. His arms twitching and swaying unnaturally with a box. He quickly fed us and moved on to admiring the room. Each crazy step he took was a sudden movement, unexpected, and shot fear through me.

He plucked my last fingernail.

He continued his torture.

He admired the room.

It was over. I would no longer be tortured. My men would no longer be trapped.

However the door was closed and a traumatizing screech filled the room.

Despair is me.

The next day the traumatizing screech filled the room again. He stumbled in with a pure white cloak. I asked him why he did not let us go. He laughed and an insane smile filled his face. He ran over to me, his limbs flying in different directions. He pulled off my shoes. My eyes wide.

“We have another ten nails here don’t we?”

My heart fell.

He quickly pulled out his pliers. Yanked off a nail.

My face was truly dead. My eyes mere decorations.

I sat on that hard cold iron chair. No resistance to the man in front of me.

After he was done I asked him.

“Didn’t you want information? Why haven’t you asked?”

He replied.

“Did I say that? I don’t think so?”

He took a glance at the other bloodied man in the room. I realized what he was insinuating.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed his look.

After Dr Ridge left we argued. The men wanted to give in, the enemy already having information. I refused, I told them it was all planned by that man. Everything here was in his control. The bloodied man could barely speak, but he muttered that he didn’t say anything.

The torture continued. Each day it was the same. A regular practice. My right foot had two nails left, my left had two as well.

That day he stumbled the same as ever. He did not give us any food, and went straight to my nail. The change terrified me, what else would he change. In fact he would change a lot that day. The methods of torture, how long, how painful. I had no way to tell the time but I was sure that he had tortured me for twice as long.

However something amazing happened. I suddenly could no longer feel pain. My skin did not feel anything. Not touch, warmth or the cold. His torture was now a mere game.

I could not sleep during the night. My body recalled my past even if I did not want it to. Previous wars filled with terror. Previous wars filled with loss. The time between the war alone. The training so I wouldn’t lose again.

The next day I could tell my hearing and sight were enhanced greatly. Though very dim I could see small details, blood splatters, scratches in the floor, the rocky black ceiling. I could hear the slight breathing of my comrades, the rustle of chains, and the sound of footsteps outside.

The door once again screeched open. Doctor Ridge stumbled in each limb moving with a mind of its own. I finally recognized the abnormal movement, it was like a bug twitching. Each of his movements are sudden and unexpected.

He quickly fed us, however I only got a hard piece of bread this time. It did not change anything. I had no sense of taste. However I knew every action of that man was perfectly calculated. What could this mean?

He pulled another nail. Two left.

He tortured me. No Feeling.

He got bored. Tried something new.

He left.

I was perfectly fine with no sense of pain. However my men were afraid. They saw me go through something terrible. Even if I had no sense of pain they didn’t know. Even the bloodied man cringed and cowered during my times of torment.

Additionally I knew even if I didn’t feel pain my body would break down.

The next day. The screech with my heightened hearing was even worse. Doctor Ridge did not feed us and went straight to my nail.

He walked around the room admiring the blood. I dyed the room red. Most of the floor was a lake of my blood.

The torture continued and I gave no reaction. I held fiercely.

It was now truly the last day. However, Doctor Drake did not come. You could not tell the time in the chamber. Every second was an eternity, thoughts obscured the time. The wait an eternity of terror.

Longingly, the doors screeched open for the last time. The two servant boys quickly lit the torches and I was bathed in light once again. Doctor Ridge crawled and twitched his way like a bug over to me.

No food. He quickly pulls out his pliers and quickly with no remorse pulls out my last toenail. No hesitation in him.

He continues to torture me. It was quite short, with Doctor Ridge trying to savor my pain. He walks around the room appreciating the art he had made of me.

I asked him.

“When are you going to let us out?”

He walked over right to my face.

“Did I say I was going to let you out.”

I felt a wave of darkness come over me. Luckily I could not feel pain.

I broke the chains that bound me and thrust my hands to his neck. His face did not change. He looked happy. Slowly I squeezed the life out of the crazy doctor. Near the end he smiled genuinely and let out a tear.

No sympathy came from me.

The two servant boys hid in a corner afraid of me. I searched for the keys and were able to find them easily.

I unlocked my twenty men. The cuffs of the chains still bind my wrists. I was not free yet.

I ordered the servant boys to lead us out. We cautiously looked around corners and hid behind buildings. We only had this chance to escape. The servant boys correctly led us out, they were too obedient.

We were able to successfully escape into the forest where I passed out.

The snow continued to fall throughout Warrior Gunnar's story. After the story the dead-like glare of the warrior felt more threatening.

The opinions of the crowd varied. Some disagreed with his decision to surrender in the face of the enemy. Others saw that he completed the mission and came home with all of his men.

Few felt pity for the torture the warrior had suffered. But many were scared from it.

Warrior Gunnar showed his scars once again before putting his clothes back on. Proving his story he did not shiver or freeze during the story.

“War is not about killing, however it’s not about sparing lives.” His words echoed the crowd.

All of the crowd still held deep respect for the warrior. Paying close attention to his words, and trying to decrypt their meaning.

“I have lost my smell, taste, and touch. All of them had meaning. While it benefited me at the time, or stood with my principals. I have still lost something important. The smell of flowers, the taste of food, the bitterness of the cold, even the sharpness of pain. They all told me I was still alive.”

Some understood his words superficially. A deep meaning still lingering.

“We as warriors should not live for war. We are people who fight to live.” Finally some understood his words, but many were still left in the dark.

With that Warrior Gunnar went back to staring deep into the fire in front of him.