Day 177 - Border Story

Border Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Laritus had never been to the water’s edge. His entire life he had always wanted to see the ocean. He had read the poems and seen the paintings and listened to the songs, but he had never seen it. The kingdom had no direct route to the sea.

There had been three Great Wars, all fought over the border between nations, and the desire to establish a land route to the water’s edge. His grandfather had been a foot soldier and had been killed in a losing effort. His father had ridden in the cavalry and disappeared during a reconnaissance mission. Laritus had fought as a young man in the 3^rd Great War. Again a losing war, but Laritus had survived. Laritus was happy to have avoided following his family tradition of dying on the battlefield. He had suffered through many unspeakable horrors during the war, but he had survived.

MilaHakra had been one big and bloody mess. MilaHakra was the name of an ancient leader as well as region of the country, one of the capital cities, and the largest most deadly battle of the 3^rd war. Halania had wagered the war on that battle and it had failed miserably.

After the battle was lost, the city was surrounded and under siege. The city and its forces had held as long as they could. But in the end it wasn’t enough. No reinforcements were coming to their rescue. No breakout was possible. Laritus spent six months defending the city and after the city fell, an additional year as a prisoner before the war finally ended.

Laritus was a leader now and no one spoke of the failures from the 3^rd Great War. It was hardly ever mentioned that Laritus had been a soldier at MilaHakra, and there were no records of what he did or did not do during the battle or the subsequent siege. Leaders got to rewrite or erase their own history as they saw fit. There were no songs written about losing battles and the veterans had no desire to remember the horrors that occurred. There were rumors – rumors of cannibalism, whispers of attempts to flee in the night and failed mutinies and attempts to surrender to the city, and then the shame of hiding amongst the women and sick when the city finally did fall.  No one ever accused Laritus of any of these things.

After the war MilaHakra had been stolen by Shogarten as a form of war reparations and Laritus had risen to become a military leader of Halania. A generation later, the deep-rooted resentments from semi-constant wars ran deep. It was obvious that a 4^th Great War was on the horizon. This war wouldn’t be fought for the same reasons as the previous three. A route to the sea would have been beneficial, but that dream had faded long ago. Now there was just resentment and the desire to crush Shogarten. When sibling rivalry resulted in the death of several members of the Shogarten aristocracy it seemed as if the time was right to strike and strike quickly.

Laritus was an aging man and had no true desire to fight, but he was a man of honor and he would do his duty. The strategy of the 4^th war was to move quickly and burn anything in their way as they continually pushed their way towards the capital of Shogarten. Previous wars had been about taking and holding land and trying to defend these gains until a peace could be created. There was no desire for peace during this war, only the desire to destroy. Halania had had enough and they were out for blood.

Laritus got to march through MilaHakra and it was liberated and returned to its rightful country. He had little time to reminisce, but he felt proud to have been part of the force that reunited his fellow brethren.

Three days later he was struck by an arrow during battle. Laritus was left for dead as his soldiers continued on their path. There was no time to care for the wounded. There was no time to hold the ground after battle and regroup. There was only the moving forward on a singular path of destruction.

Laritus had been wandering for days now. He had lost his sense of direction, but he trudged on. Sometimes he stole food, other days he went hungry. He was no surgeon, but he knew enough of battle medicine to sew a wound. He had lost a lot of blood, but he was still moving.

While his armies made a journey of death and demolition, Laritus made a pilgrimage to the sea. He had always wanted to see the water, something that had never been accomplished by three generations of men. He had no idea if his country would win their war or not, he knew he wouldn’t live long enough to find out. His only remaining hope was that he could live long enough to catch a glimpse of that elusive dream. He hoped he was heading in the right direction.