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A Lonely God
28.3 - War

28.3 - War

After the meeting, Tomas found John,

“General, can I have a moment of your time?”

“How can I help you?”

“I have noticed you seem to be short on deputy generals and I would like to offer my service.”

“You want to be a deputy general?”

“Yes, sir”

John frowned and looked closer at Tomas. At first glance he looked like a normal young man, admittedly a well dressed one. But his eyes… He hid it well but he could completely cover the fire within. He was hungry. For power and glory and all the things young men lusted after. He wanted to make a name for himself, wanted to carve out a place in history. Yet… he was wasted on the battlefield. His true worth lay in organization and management. With a gun maybe he could kill 100. With a pen he could kill thousands. He wouldn't like it, but in time he would understand.

“I would hire you as my personal secretary”

The fire inside flashed for a second, revealing his frustration to the world before he masterfully hid it.

“Sir, I truly believe I could accomplish much more on the battlefield.” he entreated.

“On the contrary, the pen is mightier than the sword. It was you that brought this assembly together. It was you who wrote the document that gave us independence.”

His frustration flared up again,

“Sir, if you could just…”

“No Tomas.” he said gently “I see the hunger in you. I was once hungry like that. Hungry for power and glory. But there are many paths to power. One leads to death. One leads to victory.”

“I would gladly die for my country!” he replied heatedly.

“Dying is easy. Living is harder.”

Tomas was silent for a few moments, processing those words. Then he took a deep breath and visibly mastered himself.

“I…see. Very well. I accept. I will serve as your secretary.”

“Thank you, Tomas. I understand how difficult that was.”

“This is what's best for Nirvivan. How could I not?”

John smiled at him, but internally he worried.

Fires as bright as Tomas’s were not so easily extinguished.

War is a peculiar thing. All men are worlds unto themselves, and the weight of ending a world is no light burden. Yet war is a feast of destruction, a rain of blood. Worlds meet their ends in the thousand, falling in crashes heard across the world. War is a monstrosity, a massacre of potential. And the war John fought was among the most vicious. Across all of Frald and Nirvivan, men and women alike fell to their knees as they felt their worlds shattering. Men, women, and children, all fell to the divine crusade for freedom. Such is the price of rebellion.

Cannons rang out over the ridge, a symphony of death. A wave of red crashed into the base of the ridge like a red sea striking the coast. Screams and war cries ruled the battlefield, louder than even the thousands of gunshots. Or they would.

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“Rally the northern flank! Direct cannon fire to support! I will personally bolster the southern flank!” High General John Nirvan ordered.

“Yes, Sir!”

John Nirvan burst out of the command tent in full gallop, Nelly straining against her reins as she struggled to reach their overwhelmed men, a drop of blue in a sea of red. Behind him, nearly a dozen officers emerged and immediately rushed in the other direction, the roar of cannons accompanying them.

From the outside, it looked insane, a single man rushing an entire army. However, upon seeing him, the armies of Nirvivan let out a mighty roar and redoubled their defense while the Fraldians faltered, shying back in the face of the legendary general.

While in mid-stride, John, nay Sunshot, reached a hand to his waist. The officers of Frald, immediately shrank back, a thought occurring to them. But the sun could not be stopped. It touched all things. A second later, a dozen Fraldian officers toppled from their saddles.

John seized the moment,

“Rally! This is our chance! Push them!”

And somehow, the Nirvivians heard him.

With a mighty roar, they pushed forward, capitalizing on their opponent's sudden loss of commanders.

The Fraldian battlelines buckled as they desperately retreated.

John arrived at the Nirvivian battlelines, to the worshiping eyes of his men.

“They will be back! Reform the lines! Reload your muskets! Clean your bayonets! And somebody prime the southern cliffs with explosives! We’ll drive them back and collapse the cliff on them!”

There was work to do.

Later that night, the command tent was stuffed to bursting,

“Tomas,” John questioned, “Has the assembly responded?”

“Yes, they say the rest of the armies are losing ground. After Richmond's army was routed, the rest started losing ground. And they…they are approaching Rashek”

John took that news with a grim nod. It had been expected.

He considered their choices, and only one came to mind. It was insane, but it was the only thing that could work. Even convincing the army to try it was a risky proposition. But… in the past years of fighting, he had gained an almost mythical reputation. He was undefeated, despite being outnumbered nearly 3 to 1. If anyone could do it, it was him.

He spoke,

“If they take the capitol, we lose. We must…” he sighed, “We must strike now. It's the only hope.”

“But that's madness! They have almost three times our numbers!”

“And yet we must! The second largest army marches on Rashek, and nobody can stop them but us!”

The tent was silent at that. Then Tomas spoke,

“The general is right, we must strike. I have seen the undertone in the assembly’s letters. They are terrified, ready to surrender. And if they surrender, our dreams of a free nation turn to mist. In these past three years of fighting, we have been the only army to actually gain ground, despite being heavily outnumbered. We are the biggest army, and we have the greatest commander. We can end this!”

John nodded at the once-young man. War had hardened him, granted him wisdom and control.

Then gathering all of his ethos, all of his presence, the weight of his myth, he spoke,

“This is the battle for Nirvivan. This will decide our fate and the fate of our home. Will we hide from that destiny, or meet it with cocked guns! This is the cumulation of our war! So tell me men! Will. We. Meet! Our! DESTINY!”

A moment of silence preluded a furious roar of agreement.

It was decided. They would fight at dawn. For the fate of Nirvivan.

After the meeting, Tomas came to find him. It was funny how the past repeated itself. Once he had come, a boy blazing with passion and righteous rage, begging to hold command. How he came as a man, one equal to any,

“You know why I am here” Tomas stated.

“Yes”

“I am ready”

“Yes”

“So, I ask you general, may I have command?”

“Yes, you may. You will lead the eastern flank.”

“Thank you”

John smiled,

“You have earned it. I cannot think of a better person for the position.”