I was in a meeting explaining my achievements in war. Around three years ago I turned the warriors of the normal path.

That path never leads to anything bright. Only taking from others and ignoring the world.

However at that point it was an ideal, they were only words then.

If I wasn’t able to turn those words into reality they would die with me.

After I met in that noisy pavilion, I would have to go to war again.

However for me, war had to change. And my role in war had changed.

I could no longer fight, my limbs rotten and my eyes blind.

Only sound led me to see.

We gathered in front of the city's one mirror. An object useless to me, however as tradition relays I stood in front of the mirror.

The mirror was a mere wall to myself. A sign of the difference between myself and every other man there.

But I saw myself not through a mirror but through my own image. I still sit in that iron chair, and the chains still my hands from any attempt. The door opened but was still impossible to reach. My face was refusing to show any hint of emotion.

The ceremony continued and I ignored any warrior wishing to gain my favor.

We soon set off to the battlefront.

The trip was boring for someone in a position similar to my own. I rode a horse everyday, talking to the tall man. One of my twenty men and my friend. I heard the sounds of nature and of us disturbing it.

It felt like an eternity to arrive at the battlefront. Days blended together, sometimes I didn’t know whether I was sleeping or awake. The noise blending from one to another.

Once we arrived at the battlefront we received loud cheers. I supposed it was an ode to my fame. A usual chant filled the area.

I arrived at the commander's tent with the assistance of my tall friend. Once I entered I could feel the difference between the inside and outside.

It was starkly quiet inside the tent.

I heard a familiar voice.

I struggled to kneel and greeted the lord.

He was surprised at my appearance. He immediately told me to get off my knees and offered me a chair. He asked me why I was at the battlefront.

I told him I was his warrior til death, and that even if I couldn’t fight I would still help.

He kept a weird silence. I supposed he was surprised at my devotion.

He thanked me for all my service, then assigned me as a strategist.

I strived to learn as much as I could about the battle. An assistant had to speak to me to describe the war.

I learned many things.

First, our opponent was a fierce enemy. He did not have large numbers but greatly trained soldiers. He challenged the lord to battle because of poverty.

Second, we were in a defensive position. The terrain to our advantage, even if it lowered our mobility.

Third, the entire battle relied on this battlefront.

Fourth we had high numbers but low food.

With this information and deeper descriptions I suggested a beginning plan. Any further planning would have to come with more information or a change in position.

The plan I suggested was to play defensively, and lure the enemy in. Then with our superior number either shoot them to death or surround them.

Once I proposed this plan the lord agreed to it, with the addition of the strategists change. The strategists' change included the way to surround them. We would send out troops and make them hide in trenches.

I had no objection to the plan so it was implemented nearly immediately.

Another week and several trenches were complete.

Two days later the first battle arrived.

A horn sounded through the camp. I laid in wait with my advisor in the commander's tent. I would no longer be any help on the battlefield.

The sounds of war continued for some time. I was not able to differentiate many of the sounds and was lost in the terrible noise.

My advisor quickly updated me on the surrounding scene.

The enemy approached and let out a rain of arrows. The enemy number one thousand to our five thousand.

The enemy did not approach close enough to be ambushed.

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Arrows continued to rain.

I quickly tried to imagine the war inside my head. We only needed them to advance, but what could make them voluntarily come forward?

A bait?

I did not want to sacrifice any men. I had to keep to my principles. I had nothing else left.

Soon I got notice of the enemy's retreat.

I relaxed and immediately thought of what came next.

The battlefield wouldn’t be cleaned.

Bodies not laid to rest.

Tears not given, people forgotten.

Everything I had fought against, and they were going to happen right in front of my eyes.

I spoke such righteous words, but when it came to putting them into action I was now useless.

Then I thought of the enemy, they were fighting for something as well. Not to conquer us but for food. They were just trying to survive.

We did not have enough food either.

I then remembered my own words.

A path for peace.

What would that path be now?

The battle continued for days. The enemy only shot arrows and retreated. Soon we would both run out of food. No solution came across my mind.

Then the next battle occurred. As usual at this point the enemy approached and fired arrows at us. We were used to it so there were few casualties.

A sudden impulse came over me. To kill the opponent. The war was only making the situation worse. It would certainly be much better for them to die, so at least one side can live.

I called for a meeting to discuss my new strategy. We needed to draw the opponent in soon otherwise our men lying in wait would soon diminish.

I proposed sending a cavalry unit to attack the enemy unit. There were oppositions, we had too few cavalry and too few horses.

I said that we would be able to lure the enemy into our hands. The strategist realized my intentions. They still put up opposition.

I said that this was the way to win the war. They still held some opposition in their voices but agreed to the plan.

The next day a cavalry force was sent out from our side. The enemy did not have time to retreat.

Battle ensued and yells of pain could be heard by even myself.

A horn blew three times. The signal.

I could hear the thundering of footsteps and the sounds of war. My advisor described the war before me.

We had encircled the opponent. They were dying quickly.

We were victorious.

I rested for the day after the battle. My body, painless, would likely be damaged whether I knew it or not.

The lord praised me for my strategy and wits. He gave me great honor for the result of the war.

I was glad, we had won the war and had achieved peace.

However something felt wrong.

The next day came and we started to clean the battlefield.

The day after that came and we got reports of the deaths.

While the opponent had lost all of their thousand men we had lost over two thousand.

I felt a little uneasy, but this was the cost of war. Without my choices more would have suffered.

Warrior Gunnar finished his story. However there was no applause, no cheer, there was nothing.

“After I came back from the war, only then did I realize what I really did.” Warrior Gunnar tried to say.

“I was reveling in my victory for peace. When I heard the cries from the village.” Warrior Gunnar heard no response.

“Almost a third of the warriors we had sent had perished. That was when I realized that the day was not for celebrating but for mourning.” Silence was the only thing that could be heard.

“I had ordered over two thousand people to their graves. My words before were false. I said I did not want to forget the lives of those who died. I said we were warriors of the dead.” Warrior Gunnar fell into a wallow of self hate.

“I realized that I did not fight for peace. This was not the peace I wanted.”

“If I was a farmer instead, could I have filled one more stomach? Could I have saved one more person from the suffering of war?” Gunnar spoke, only being able to hope his throat still remembered how to say the words.

“Instead I still sit on this iron throne. Thinking I know what the outside looks like. I say words but that was all they turned out to be, words.” Gunnar saw himself sitting all alone on that iron chair that robbed him.

“I have lost my smell, the first time I ignored death. I have lost my taste, the first time I ignored something inhuman. I have lost my skin, the time I ignored my naive self. I have lost my sight, my soul drowned in the blood of those I ignored. And then I lost my hearing, ignoring the screams of the very people I swore to protect after sending them to their deaths.” A man with Grey Hair sitting on an iron chair. His feet resting on the pool of blood below him, not a thing knowing its depth.

“I have lost so much. Do I even have anything left?” The prisoner asked himself.

“I am surrounded by all of these things I can’t get back. That I threw away.”

A silence lasting for an indefinite time only filled with traces of pain.

The prisoner's entire life revealed itself to him.

Looking back the prisoner only felt pain.

A sudden realization came to the prisoner.

“I am already dead.”

A dreadful silence followed.

“I was only a prisoner to myself.” The Grey Haired man stood breaking the chains that bound him to the now rusted metal chair.

He could see the open door in front of him. A bright light shining, he somehow knew what that door was. What it would lead to.

“Someone hear me.” He pleaded, hoping his throat still knew how to say the words. There was something he could do, something he could only say in this room, filled with blood.

“Don’t go down the same path I did.” A small fire of hope lit inside him.

“There is no good in war. No reason for blood.” He could only hope that his bloody life could help even one person. To give his life even a little meaning in the end.

“Someone listen.” He pleaded again.

“War does not only come from evil, You need to listen.” His fire burned bigger, engulfing his entire being.

“People can fight for their empty stomachs or their futures.” He banged his hands against the white marble walls.

“Someone please listen.” His desperation was only matched by his voice screaming.

“Don’t forget, you can't forget, ever.”

“We are all people, we all bleed red. We all look at the same sky, sun and moon. We are all the same, we have all lost someone, we have all looked at death before. We all share the same pain.”

“REALIZE.” Yelling, pleading.

“Someone, please, change this world, look to the future.”

“Someone, remember the past, remember the dead.”

“Remember those who lived, their lives, hold something so precious.”

“DON’T FORGET.”

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A Dead Warriors Message END