You told me once that war has no winners. I remember that day vividly, when we stood together at the edge of the cliff of the Morenian mountains. Just beyond the borders of your kingdom where your army laid in wait to protect your people.

You brought me there to show me the severity of what it meant to take the vow to protect the realm from any threat that may come. To show me how much your people were willing to scarifice to protect your crown, and those that live under it.

You told me that a king must do everything in his power to shield his people and take up arms with them if need be. For who is a king that won’t fight beside his people. Most importantly you taught me that there is no joy in slaughtering on the battlefield. Only a fool celebrates the death of a man aiming to protect his home and crown.

You never came back home, after you sent me away from these mountains, all those years ago.

War has no winners. The wind blows in my hair. I’m standing on the edge again. Alone. Where my army lays in wait, to protect my people, just beyond my border.