NationStates Jolt Archive


Soldier of Lachenburg (please Edit)

Kervoskia
28-02-2005, 02:02
Here is part of a story I wrote. Feel free to edit it or give suggestions. I hope you enjoy it and may learn something from it, or find it morbid and label me deranged.

Part the First
The town was Lachenburg. Friedrick's forces had newly arrived from his conquests in the East. General Von Kapt had ordered them to come and help defend the city against viscious armies of the Duke of Fermonte' who controlled the Western provinces. Only us and the Duke were the only powers who remained in the the succession struggle left by the deceased Emperor Ludwig. We had been in the city for twenty-three and one half days when they finally reached the gargantuan piles of stone and splendor that was once the grand city Lachenburg. Friedrick's forces did not have the look of fatigue nor the look that was on the face of each weary soldier. Their uniforms were new and were a bright blue color, unlike the our coats that were now dyed in the scarlett red blood. It drenched us all. If one observer were to see the infantrymen, he would swear by our complexion that we were of the Savage people in the New World. No, these soldiers did not have the look of despair that was ever-present in the tired eyes of the young warriors. If you were to stare into the eyes of one of them you could see the apparitions of fallen comrades and citizenry that haunted the city. They were dry however. There was no time for tears or blubbery nor time to mourn a friend lost in battle, they had become the forgotten, the fallen and now rest in the trenches and under stones that was once Lachenburg. They were in the open air, the air that they once breathed.Tears were consuming and thus useless in war, energy was better suite for fighting.
Their faces were covered in gun powder. At the beginning of the conflict they would have brushed it off and found it bothersome, now they had become accustomed to it. It dried and became patches on the skin of the ever diminishing population. Even their once vibrant souls were either dead or petrified, as if Death were playing a cruel joke on them. Fear was present, but it was not the fear of death, for that was all around them and had become the norm. No, this was fear of a different sort. This was the fear of not knowing. They were well aware that at any point in time they could be at Death's doorstep but they did not know when the Fates would choose them and send them to the Ferryman. They could not sleep and insomnia was so widespread in that even the most high ranking of officers lay awake at night with their muskets at hand. They knew it would be soon, however, and they could be released from this barbarous nightmare. The wait itself was a slow and painful end. Paranoia was seen on the soldiers and delusions of an Eden were in their minds. They realised that there would be no peace to this end and abandoned all hope, for that was useless in such a sadistic reality. Hope was a meaningless commodity possessed by those who were in a realm of deep and restricted desperation.
There was no flesh on their faces, not muscles in their hands. The skin hung off them as if were a blanket being dried in the sun They no longer resembled the living and the sorrows of war were characteristic in them. In a word they were ghosts, walking ghosts. Cheek bones petruded outward and their noses were covered with what looked like a thin sheet of papyrus. Many had lost eyes and medical attention was scarce. It was not uncommon to see people marching around wearing eyepatches or even bare sockets left open to the dust and brimstone for that matter.
Over by the old chapel house a group of these well-dressed soldiers had congregated. They were sitting in the scorched wooden pews with their boots on top of rubble, used as make-shift stools. One of them, a seemingly respectable fellow, had found his way up to the pulpit. It was leaning quite a bit so it took him a while to find his balance. He was wearing a blue uniform, as they all were, but this one was exceptionally clean. Not a speck of dirt nor drop of blood could be found. He had a healthy complexion. Neither scar nor bruise marked his body and there was much flesh on his face, yet another sign that he had never experienced war in its most brutal form. His hands was not like a skeleton but of a well-fed mercenary. When he finally balanced himself he raised his right hand and put on a stern face.He then lowered his head in a pious but mocking manner. Slowly he raised it and began to speak. I wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but his comrades each burst into a laughter that could be heard throughout the vacinity. The soldier at the pulpit did not laugh or change his expression, but kept the same solemn look. I was still not certain as to what they were doing until he began digging through the remnants of the church. After sometime he pulled out something. At first it was indistinguishable, but after I focused I could see what it was, a crucifix. It was the very same crucifix that had hung on the on the church overlooking the faithful during sunday mass. He took from his pocket a square white cloth and spat on it. He took the rag and wiped down the cross. He went to the Savior's face and wiped it clean and the others laughed tremendously. The soldier proceeded down the dusty aisle. It was at that moment that I knew his full intent. He was mocking us. They played a cruel joke on us that day, one that is unforgivable, it was more like an act against God and the soldiers defending them. The very thought of it was sickening.The same church where many of the soldiers were baptized and blessed was being mocked by someone who had the audacity to play such a joke. What worse thing he could he have done next? Turn the Pope into Antichrist and make his vile companions saints? No more of this jester could I take. I called over some of my comrades who had not yet been sent to Ceberus.I pointed to the mockery and at once we marched towards them. When he approached them they stopped their childishness and ceased their cynical laughter. The one at the pulpit was to first to stand forward.
" Ello fellow comrades. How be you this most glorious day?", he said.
A young infantryman name Viktor pushed us aside and replied, " We be not comrades with such demonic vermin who dare make a mockery of us."
"I make a mockery fo you? Ha! That in itself is a mockery. I did not such a thing and demand an apology.", his fellows chuckled and he stood snively ove rus.
" It is you who owe us the declaration. You laugh at our loss and do not put into account the pain we have suffered. Your joy is sickening to say the least."
" Pain? What pain do speak of dear boy? I look around me and I see blue skies and town that is fresh for merry making.", He coxed his head at Viktor.
" Pain? I speak of pain you know not of, and from what I can see, you have never experienced for yourself. And merry making, thats an act that we have not partaken in since this bloody conflict began."
" I see you are a pessimist. You see dark skies and dreary days ahead. You see war as painful and when acting in such should be filled with dread and misery. 'Tis the marks of a coward and nothing more."
We were appalled, but none more so than young Viktor. His eyes became still and looked once more at the demon he was engaging with then said, " Coward be I? I have lost more loved ones and dear comrades than you have seen in three lifetimes. They each fought gallantly but died still. While you be over here and make laughter and patronize us. I wish I had not seen this but I did, and I too endure it am braver than you, them scum of the war who has not compassion for neithe rour woes nor the fallen ones."
" Woe! Oh, woe! I am overwhelmed by it. I have no one left for they had not strength enough to endure the same torment as I."
"I ask you onec more. End this mockery and apologize for it. I know sorrow and I wish to end it ."
"End it, then here have my pistol. There is but one bullet in there and I give to you.", he proceeded to pull out his pistol and hold it out for Viktor.
He looked at it, then without notice grabbed and it said, " I may be ending my pain now, but yours have just begun."
He then pulled the trigger and with a crack he fell on the ground and the blood flowed in streams out from his cold body. I and the others were shocked, but the soldier who drove him to his death scoffed and said, " A coward had died, and had died a coward's death which I find most fitting for a man such as he."
Several nearby dragoons dashed toward his body. They were thin and their uniforms were tattered and hung off their frail bones and limped heavily. We knew what they were planning to do once they obtained it and grabbed his body and pulled it away. That did not stop them and they ran ever faster toward it. A companion of mine whom we called Sir unsheated his saber which still had blood from the previous battle. When one of them leaped at Viktor, he did not hesitate to release the fellow's head from his weak body. Another pulled out a small dagger, it was rusty and the tip was blunt. Sir held his saver back and when he was in a yards lenght, brought it down with such force that it nearly liberated the poor man's stomach from his chest as he brought the blade across it and down his midsection. He too fell without a breath of air coming from hsi body when he hit the ground. There now remained only three of the original quintet and they froze in their tracks. Sir was ready to strike them all a mighty blow when one of them began to speak, " Cease your rampage," pleaded he," we meant no offense."
Unmoved by this plea and much offended, Sir took out once his saber and aimed it a the lad. I managed to grab his arm just as he was about to end their plight. We convinced him to put it away, at least for the time being, and so he put it back. He straightened himself and said," No offense? What rubbish this lowly creature has spoken."
" Please, sir, listen. My companions and I are near death and what plague has been set on our heads was hunger. We have not eaten more than a triffling amount of potato water and have had neither Schweinfleisch or Raumfleisch since our second week from our arrival to this hellish place. I am certain you have suffered as I and will surely understand that our motives and actions are justified. Your friend did suffer and would not mind if used him, for he would certainly do the same."
"I should cut your vein right now. Viktor was an honorable soldier and would not give into such a desire."
" But we are starving."
" Then starve. He was a son to me and I shall not have my own blood dishonored! I challenge you. Be victor and you shall have redemption, be loser and your head will be mine." He again unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the terrified man's throat.
" We were only trying to survive in this nightmare. Can we not do even that? Must be perish here?", he said fearfully.
" Then you should have devoured your horses instead of attempt to desecrate my blood. Now take out your sword!"
It was at that point that I intervined I ran between them in hopes of keeping them seperated, and Sir from delivering Death's decree too early. I yelled, " Halt! This is barbaric and defies all morality and ethics. We have each experienced this pain and must not turn on our fellow man. Sir, although he was dear would you not execute the same actions had you been in his place? And you, I know your are hungry, but so are we all. If be so desperate, I spotted a dead beast not far from the mill. Feast upon that if you need nourishment." That must have been a sufficient answer because he put his sword away and the trio followed my instructions.
Sir said but one more thing to them, " Be off with you and never return to my sights again!"

Watch out for my grammatical errors, as they are numerous.
Haken Rider
28-02-2005, 20:31
Bimp