Okay, maybe fighting was a lot different than what I thought. Before traversing through the mountain pass, there was a small territorial dispute that went from a rude remark to full-blown announcements of war against one another. These nobles really had nothing to do, did they? Well, it’s not like I cared; I could warm up my evil general character and get used to battle plans.

However, the battle was nothing I ever imagined. Blood splashed against metal armor, and the cries of horses and men nearly burst my tender ears. The shrieks of the dead and the dying mingled with the war cries of those charging to meet their maker.

It was mayhem; the only organized and foreseeable thing was death. It was just lines of men marching at each other, it was senseless.

Why did these young men die for the petty squabbles of those born a little higher in rank than them? I felt vomit threaten to spew out everywhere, but I clamped a hand over my mouth and hung back from the front lines. My hands shook, and adrenaline pumped through me; my heart beat faster than I ever thought it could.

A spear was thrust in my direction; I tilted my head to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly skewer, and with a hurl of my own, threw my own spear back into the face of the armor-clad soldier. Time slowed; I could feel every breath of wind and the stomp of the horse hooves beneath me.

My spear flew with power straight into the head of the enemy soldier. All my images of glorious war and honor shattered. I had taken a life.

Blood spewed from the man’s broken face as he fell from his horse. The sickening thud of his body made me flinch. “I’m so sorry, so, so, sorry,” I whisper these words like a broken record. My vision swam, but I bit my tongue to regain my clarity with a snap. It was a one-sided slaughter, a Viscount who was known for his military prowess and an Earl known for its merchants.

I had volunteered to try and help solve the bad blood between the two estates but, in the end, could only watch helplessly as those in power used the deaths of hundreds as pawns to satiate their hatred for the other.

Hours later, I sat by the fire, but still, the battle raged in my head. Even though it had been long since the fight had ended, in my mind's eye, I could still see the carnage and hear the shrieks of those long-dead.

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I stared into my hands. I had scrubbed them almost raw to try to “clean” them. But the blood of the man I had killed seemed to darken my hands every time I tried to rip it off.

An old man came and sat down next to me. He had a scruffy white beard, and his clothes were in tatters. One of his legs was gone, and he plunked a heavy, awkward-looking lump of crutches beside him. Most likely, a veteran soldier unfit for war but still useful for small tasks.

“What did you think of the battle son?” The old mans voice was cracking and gritty like sandpaper.

“It’s terrible. I murdered a man.” The only words that I could muster were these. These thoughts had been replaying and spinning around in my head, and finally found freedom in the soft breath of the night air.

My eyes then snapped up, no one should know I was not the general. But then my eyes found his and they were a blur of white, empty and unseeing. I felt relief wash over me.

“Do you know what murder is?” The old man said quietly.

“When you end a person’s life.” I reply.

“No, murder is when you take an innocent life. But that is not what a soldier does. He kills.”

“So, what’s the difference?” I ask.

The old man turned to me and his unfocused look felt like he was piercing through my soul,

“Killing is what a soldier must do. Killing is called for to defend a country, defend a family, and a home. Murder is when you kill for no reason. Maybe there will come an age when death will not be the cost of peace, but it is not this age. War is what it is, and if you can prevent senseless death then you have learned from the many graves of those who fought before you.”

After the old man’s words, we sat together in the silence of the night, with only the sounds of the fire crackling. I was in a position of power where I could stop senseless killing. But anyway why was this old man yammering at me? I didn’t ask for no lecture! I sighed to myself. This world, is not my world, but it doesn't mean that these people are any less of a human than I am.

Before this fight I felt like all this was a game, this evil general a character to play. But I was brought low before the face of the mangled corpses that littered the field. They died so easily, so simply, and for what? A feudal war? A battle that they themselves had nothing to do with. A childish quarrel between nobles led to the death of thousands of men. Now I can understand why the common people hate nobles so much.

…

Later that night I was at my desk looking through the battle plans for the upcoming war in Vin. Taking the mountain pass would indefinitely be longer. However, the troops would first meet up with a different group, the troops led by the Duke of the North. His men would know how to traverse through the mountain.