Kurro cast his gaze upon the scorched field and sighed. The air burned and tasted like copper. Soot rained down from the heavens, staining his white robes with faint blackened lines. He could see the bodies, littering the earth, and the moans and cries of men at death's door echoed on the hills. This was his own doing. His success. He wanted to vomit. He clenched his fist inside the sleeve of his robes and looked up. The sky was covered with clouds of black and deep grey, the sun nowhere to be seen. 

"My Lord, congratulations. Another successful strategy," the guard beside him spoke. Kurro opened his mouth but he could not find the words. He turned to look at the guard. His plate armour was shiny and spotless, his weapon without a scratch. It was quite the contrast against a backdrop of broken and fallen soldiers with crushed gear and stained arms. He noticed the imperial seal on his shoulder plate, the gold lines of the falcon clean and straight. There was a torn flag behind him, waving the same seal, half blackened.

"What do we fight for?" Kurro asked as he looked forward once more. The guard hesitated, before answering.

"We fight for the country and the common people in the name of the emperor,"

Kurro glanced at the guard and sighed once more. He then bent down picked up a handful of soil and felt them between his fingers. It was hard and rough to the touch. 

"Before this battle, these hills were covered with grass and trees and fields of wheat and flowers of all shapes and colours," he slowly poured out the soil in his hand, "We fought for the country and the common people, and now there is no country and no common people. You tell me, have we succeeded at all?"

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The guard was stunned. Looking around, there was no green as far as his eye could see, thanks to Lord Kurro's strategy that involved burning the land. But it was the only way to win, he thought, he could think of no other way. Suddenly, a horn sounded, alerting everyone in the area. The guard turned his head to the west. There was a cloud of dust heading their way, and when he squinted he could make out yellow coloured flags, enemy troops. 

"My Lord, we need to get you out of here!" he exclaimed signalling for the other guards to prepare the carriage. Kurro did not move. He sighed once more and closed his eyes. He was known as one of the greatest strategists of the empire. How could he fail to notice the sudden absence of the commander? The presence of only wounded troops in the camp? His carriage, conveniently located at the top of the hill? It seemed that the emperor had had enough of him and his pleas for peace. 

"It is too late, they are too fast. Go on with your men and scatter among the hills, it is me they want so I doubt they will chase you," Kurro said, as he picked up a fallen sword next to the body of a mangled soldier. 

"I will not leave you, My Lord!" The guard replied as he drew his great sword. Kurro shook his head. He turned to see that only half of his guard remained, the rest, all new, had already gone. They all had determined looks on their faces, they all knew that there was no surviving what was coming. 

"Very well, hold fast, give no ground. For ever one that dares to strike, make sure you kill two!" Kurro ordered the fifteen men as the enemy approached. 

He yelled and swung his sword as he charged at the largest soldier, white robes swaying in the wind, the butterfly insignia on his back glowing under the sun.