Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK II - Scene XLVI

The large horse and heavy frame of King Brijsk seemed to dwarf the trees, so large a figure did he cut. Even the soldiers of the northern forces stood somewhat in apprehension of his presence. Following at his lead like dogs following a hunt. The scent of carnage always at his rear and never near his nostrils. For him it was a relief to finally return to battle, and though his body had aged much since his youth he quickly discovered his swiftness. His sword cutting down the rebellious half-tails with blunt ease, as his colossal black horse rode through the wood with gravity. The pools of dark blood a meek testament to the appearance.

His speed of reaction had dimmed little too; his peripheral vision giving him an almost three-hundred and sixty degree view of the landscape. The everyday politics he normally had to deal with caused trouble - there was too much to think about - but in the toil of war he found an easy speed. Thinking little of those he cast down. An arrow zipped through the trees and hit his metal breastplate, but it barely registered as he continued onwards. The smoke of nearby fires like bonfires cheering him on.

When he'd made the decision to enter the field the day before, back in Wedkarten, that was the last decision he'd made consciously. Now it was pure instinct. An animal processing of information, that by nature severed any sentiment from his view of the enemy. In the castle walls he hesitated about sending more of his men to cut down the living insurgents. To set flame to their women and babes. The moral see-saw difficult to balance, and heavy on the conscience. Yet now, as another simple soldier he could leave the mental strain behind. Hanging it on a shelf where he once hung his armour. He cracked down on another skull, then heard a cry of terror from a female half-tail witnessing the barbarity. He ignored the wail and plundered forth into the willow trees. The sharp blade of his sword cutting through the hanging branches. Children ran screaming. Others staying huddled against the hollow tree bark.

He raised his sword to lead the charge further on. His horsemen, catching up, trying to imitate his dread. Each one wielding their own swords with fury. A rally of arrows ripped through the leaves once again, one catching one of his men directly in the throat. The stunned man fell down upon his horse, briefly clinging on, before falling dead to the ground. The horse itself bolting on violently into the forest, trampling more carnage amidst the homely trees. King Brijsk cut down another half-tail that leapt out from the brush to escape. Then a second. Then a female half-tail. His sword fatal with every blow. Another horseman then cut through the stomach of a half-tail who'd bravely drawn his own sword in defence of his terrified wife and child. King Brijsk, rounding in, cut down the woman and pressed on. A third horseman coming in to skewer the innocent child. Brijsk briefly pulled back in a pang of conflict, the gait of his horse momentarily awkward in its stride as it struggled to gauge the desire of its royal rider. As the moment of hesitation passed it was ever forward though. More death, more slaughter. The fires burning brighter against the evening approach. The king cut down another rebel, then another. The dead uncounted in his wake. There was much more of the forest to conquer, but the day had been a good one for securing his kingdom.