Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK II - Scene XII

Trumpet and drum sounded in the distance. The ashy cannon smoke, that not too long ago swamped the landscape like low-hanging black clouds, left a clear scent on the still-warm air. The occasional body strewn, half-hidden on the landscape. The blood, so mired with mud and dust, only noticeable on closer inspection. The trampling of hooves and wheels further softening the focus of the scene. Further inland, away from the coast, fighting continued. Field and forest battlegrounds. The forests providing more shelter to the Brynnyfirdian warriors and their Harbour Land compatriots.

A decimated body lay visible as a farmer, grown used to little interference in the brief years of Brynnyfirdian dominion, was reminded of his subject status. The Caster general, with little consideration, demanding full compliance as his farm was checked off as the latest territorial gain. The fugitives he'd harboured just a half hour earlier now fled into the trees or dead upon the ground. He momentarily glanced over at the mangled man lying on his land, and salvaged a tiny piece of joy from the fact that this one was a mainland soldier that lay there dead. A pointless, but satisfying glimmer of revenge. With his wife and family hidden safely in the little farmstead he also found relief in the knowledge that the general and his men would soon be moving on to prosecute the war elsewhere. Meaning that at least he could return to some semblance of peace. His long memory of life on the inconstant island making him stoic in the face of such troubles.

..A few more loud explosions travelled on the windy air, reaching the now relative safety of the farm. The arrows, swords and lances that also made up much of the feuding silent and unnoticed, except only to those close enough to suffer the effects. The lively clash of metal, the burning trees and crops, and the silence of the birds; a boisterous affront to the natural country, prefiguring dark death.