Dear Diary 11
July 11th 2009 17:15
Dear Diary,
Today our scouts returned from just inside Fidolian territory; the next wave is coming, nearly a thousand men. They will arrive sometime tomorrow, and the camp is preparing itself. I can feel the tension in the air as people sharpen their swords and check their bows. I can feel everyone's expectant glares at the border.
I can hear the fighting is dying down-for today at least. The men on both sides know what comes, and they are waiting for it. The Fidolians are waiting for the greater forces to bring their aid, and we are waiting to cut them down as they try and fight past our border. They will not get past me, I will make sure of it.
I wish I could send Kaya to my sister today, send her flying on the wind. But no word has been received from my sister; I begin to fear. Not that my sister is in any bad condition-she is most likely traveling-but that Kaya will get caught up once more in the horrors of war. Kaya cannot fight. We must do everything we can to keep her away from the battle, to keep the battle away from her. I've ordered Shalorin that he is not to leave her side, no matter what. He is to keep her in my tent, which is near the center of my group's encampment.
There I pray she will be safe. I will fight to keep her so, and I know Shalorin will as well; there are few men I trust as much as he. Tomorrow the fight will be vicious as they try to push past us. But I am not afraid. In the last year I have fought many fights against the Fidolians, and the only thing that strikes even the least bit of fear in me is their priests.
For their priests like to set fire to the forest. They like to make it burn on our side, and there is nothing more frustrating than putting out a magical fire-especially when it catches to a forest. We can keep ourselves from getting burned, but I do not know if we will be able to put another one out. If they do burn the trees... we will have no cover. Nothing green.
The monastery will rebel against the fire, should it come. They will most likely destroy it before it can reach any of the villages deep within these woods. But I do not know. I know that the monastery will not burn, and I know that they will do everything in their power to keep the fire from spreading. I also know that it is not my place to put out the fire should it come, as much as I want to. Should they begin the fire I must keep fighting them, must not let it distract me. There are many priests of our own who will fight the fire with their own magic.
I slept well last night; a beautiful dreamless sleep from which I awoke feeling fully rested. It was amazing. Since I came to the fight I have felt nothing as amazing as that sleep. Since I killed my first man, I have been haunted by dreams of his blood.
I know the stains only I can see will never wash off of my hands; I know that I will never be free of the guilt that plagues me. How many innocents have I killed? They are only doing what they are ordered to, by their King and by their Gods. The Fidolian Kings have always been cruel; it is them that enforce the ways of slavery. How many of these soldiers are simply slaves told that if they fight bravely they will become free?
How many of these soldiers have wives, children? I do not, and yet I have killed many that do; but I fight for the women and children of my own country. Many of my fellow soldiers have wives, have children. They attack and we fight back, not because we want to fight them but because we do not want to lose our families and our freedom to these people.
But they have no freedom; they fight because they are not free, because they are ordered to by the Powers that Be in their world. They are simply told to fight, and they cannot fight back. Fidolians are taught that they must be obedient. They are taught that if they try and rebel against their King or against their Gods that they will be beaten down.
In Fidolius there are slaves. Thousands upon thousands of slaves. They are the criminals, punished with slavery and oppression. They are the orphans, taken in secret by the slavers and sold to the rich. They are ordinary people who simply fell into debt and are taken for what they owe. And they will never be free, nor will their children, nor will their grandchildren.
But they are told they will be. They are told that if they fight in this war they will be given back their freedom; and this is a palatable dream for them. They dream of the day they will be free, but it will never come. I know the history of Fidolius, the dark and twisted history that is kept from the people's eyes and ears.
I know that they kidnap children from Appollinia and bring them into Fidolius; that they beat and enslave these children-for example the Seer of the Monastery. I know that they do these monstrous things, and I know that they always have. I know that they taunt the slaves with dreams of freedom, saying if you are good and obedient someday you will be free. That is how they convince these men to fight in these wars, but in the armies of Fidolius all men learn the meaning of brutality.
The Gods of Fidolius are simply cruel. They are monsters within their own rights; people who do not study the history do not truly realize this-and there is no more intensive study of history than what goes on in Elorian. They destroy people, and they always have. They are the Shadow and the Demon, sick and twisted Gods who want only servants and slaves, those who are obedient. And those who show even the slightest disobedience will be hurt...
I must go now. It is time to rest for the morning, prepare for the fight; and I must not dwell on their cruelty any longer. Now is not the time.
~Alaendril
Today our scouts returned from just inside Fidolian territory; the next wave is coming, nearly a thousand men. They will arrive sometime tomorrow, and the camp is preparing itself. I can feel the tension in the air as people sharpen their swords and check their bows. I can feel everyone's expectant glares at the border.
I can hear the fighting is dying down-for today at least. The men on both sides know what comes, and they are waiting for it. The Fidolians are waiting for the greater forces to bring their aid, and we are waiting to cut them down as they try and fight past our border. They will not get past me, I will make sure of it.
I wish I could send Kaya to my sister today, send her flying on the wind. But no word has been received from my sister; I begin to fear. Not that my sister is in any bad condition-she is most likely traveling-but that Kaya will get caught up once more in the horrors of war. Kaya cannot fight. We must do everything we can to keep her away from the battle, to keep the battle away from her. I've ordered Shalorin that he is not to leave her side, no matter what. He is to keep her in my tent, which is near the center of my group's encampment.
There I pray she will be safe. I will fight to keep her so, and I know Shalorin will as well; there are few men I trust as much as he. Tomorrow the fight will be vicious as they try to push past us. But I am not afraid. In the last year I have fought many fights against the Fidolians, and the only thing that strikes even the least bit of fear in me is their priests.
For their priests like to set fire to the forest. They like to make it burn on our side, and there is nothing more frustrating than putting out a magical fire-especially when it catches to a forest. We can keep ourselves from getting burned, but I do not know if we will be able to put another one out. If they do burn the trees... we will have no cover. Nothing green.
The monastery will rebel against the fire, should it come. They will most likely destroy it before it can reach any of the villages deep within these woods. But I do not know. I know that the monastery will not burn, and I know that they will do everything in their power to keep the fire from spreading. I also know that it is not my place to put out the fire should it come, as much as I want to. Should they begin the fire I must keep fighting them, must not let it distract me. There are many priests of our own who will fight the fire with their own magic.
I slept well last night; a beautiful dreamless sleep from which I awoke feeling fully rested. It was amazing. Since I came to the fight I have felt nothing as amazing as that sleep. Since I killed my first man, I have been haunted by dreams of his blood.
I know the stains only I can see will never wash off of my hands; I know that I will never be free of the guilt that plagues me. How many innocents have I killed? They are only doing what they are ordered to, by their King and by their Gods. The Fidolian Kings have always been cruel; it is them that enforce the ways of slavery. How many of these soldiers are simply slaves told that if they fight bravely they will become free?
How many of these soldiers have wives, children? I do not, and yet I have killed many that do; but I fight for the women and children of my own country. Many of my fellow soldiers have wives, have children. They attack and we fight back, not because we want to fight them but because we do not want to lose our families and our freedom to these people.
But they have no freedom; they fight because they are not free, because they are ordered to by the Powers that Be in their world. They are simply told to fight, and they cannot fight back. Fidolians are taught that they must be obedient. They are taught that if they try and rebel against their King or against their Gods that they will be beaten down.
In Fidolius there are slaves. Thousands upon thousands of slaves. They are the criminals, punished with slavery and oppression. They are the orphans, taken in secret by the slavers and sold to the rich. They are ordinary people who simply fell into debt and are taken for what they owe. And they will never be free, nor will their children, nor will their grandchildren.
But they are told they will be. They are told that if they fight in this war they will be given back their freedom; and this is a palatable dream for them. They dream of the day they will be free, but it will never come. I know the history of Fidolius, the dark and twisted history that is kept from the people's eyes and ears.
I know that they kidnap children from Appollinia and bring them into Fidolius; that they beat and enslave these children-for example the Seer of the Monastery. I know that they do these monstrous things, and I know that they always have. I know that they taunt the slaves with dreams of freedom, saying if you are good and obedient someday you will be free. That is how they convince these men to fight in these wars, but in the armies of Fidolius all men learn the meaning of brutality.
The Gods of Fidolius are simply cruel. They are monsters within their own rights; people who do not study the history do not truly realize this-and there is no more intensive study of history than what goes on in Elorian. They destroy people, and they always have. They are the Shadow and the Demon, sick and twisted Gods who want only servants and slaves, those who are obedient. And those who show even the slightest disobedience will be hurt...
I must go now. It is time to rest for the morning, prepare for the fight; and I must not dwell on their cruelty any longer. Now is not the time.
~Alaendril
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