Arrows flew through the air and stabbed through the faces and flesh of many people who had very little to do with the theater of the states they were dying for.

“This seems a bit much.” said Sam.

“Oversalient, even.” agreed Woods.

They paused as several of their comrades screamed the last sounds they would utter and they were not loving whispers to gathered loved ones or a wry joke but exclamations of animal terror as a brain that came down from the trees the day before tried to understand why it was so important to die beneath a bit of fabric too sodden with the mud of the earth and man to properly flap like the paintings some asshole would paint of it later.

“It’s like that food that those people who are a bit different than us would make.” Sam mused.

“When your tongue is too busy burning to taste anything?” Woods asked.

“Yes!” They smiled and enjoyed the moment of being seen by one another.

Several of the people they had eaten dinner with the night before fell down beside them. Two of them were dead and the last would have the misfortune of keeping consciousness for a few more days.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I don’t even know what we’re meant to be doing here.” Said Woods once the dying one’s whimpering had died down to a piteous gurgle.

“I heard there was a tree we were meant to water with the blood of the bad guys.”

“Who are the bad guys again?”

“The ones with the other flag, I think.”

“Oh yeah, they were going to do something terrible if we didn’t do something terrible to them.”

They looked around.

“Well, if terrible things were the goal, I think we’ve all accomplished our goal.” Sam said.

“Agreed.” Smiled Woods.

“Shall we?”

A quarter mile off, someone bound by titles watched through a field glass as two soldiers stood from the piles of bodies, linked arms and began strolling away from the battle field.

The way they strolled, politely yielding to passing warriors intent on killing each other, reminded the colorfully costumed commander of the way they and their spouse had once strolled along the river, carefully dodging careening children and smiling politely at those selling strange foods and flowers.

Fortunately for the heroic loss of life before them, the one acting as commander was interrupted by one of the ones acting as messenger with some update on the geometry of the human potential creating widows and orphans for glorious purpose on the perfectly lovely field on which thousands of reasonable people had failed to prevent a battle from breaking out upon below them.

The commander made a mental note to follow up on the strolling soldiers if anyone made it out alive.