Silence fell over the desecrated valley below the jagged ledges of Melindor's ridge. The sun sank quickly behind the distant mountains, even its fiery display marked by a solemnity that had not been present only hours before. A grim-faced man stood atop the ridge, the last rays of the setting sun making his tousled hair, matted with sweat and blood, glow red like embers of a fire. His hazel eyes took in the thousands of men, young and old, that lay dead and dying on the valley floor. Men had lost their lives before their bodies even experienced the earth's embrace, swords still clutched in their hands. The encounter had been intense, but swift, the combined tribes of the Lironti soon succumbing to the well-trained soldiers that made up King Jenthun's army.

The scene before him was grotesque, but he could not look away, the faces of the young men that fell by his sword burning into his memory, a painful reminder of what he had become. A single bird circled the sky; its eerie call reverberating from vale wall to vale wall, seeming to mingle with the death that floated upon the breeze.

'General Wilhelm, sir?'� A young lieutenant repeated again cautiously. The General tore his gaze from the battlefield before him and turned to face the disheveled young man at his side.

'Yes, lieutenant, uh'�?'� Wilhelm asked as he trailed off, his deep voice devoid of emotion as he linked his callused hands behind his back. The young man stood at attention despite a wound upon his arm, freshly bandaged. His wide-set eyes were eager, and he practically shook with adrenaline from the recent battle.

'Gregos, sir. Lieutenant Gregos.'� He informed the pensive general quickly. 'Duke Bayen sends word, sir. He congratulates you on this great victory, and wishes you to join him in his quarters after you address the men, sir.'� He followed the general's steady gaze, seeing the medics scouring the field for those who could be saved, leaving behind those who could not.

'Great victory.'� The general spat as he surveyed the field and the elven men that had died at his soldiers' swords. Twelve years ago I would have been proud of such a'�victory. Much has changed, he thought to himself, wishing with each passing moment that the lieutenant and his other duties would just melt away. Wilhelm remembered the days now with shame when he was much like the young lieutenant; he had reveled in the heat of battle and had taken pride in his prowess on the field. That was many years ago, however. Before years of fighting battles against 'enemies' who had never wronged him, years of training boys to be soldiers and watching their dreams die along with their souls, years away from her. It would be four years today. Four years since his flag topped the keep of Glen Loudun, since he worked his own land, since he held his wife, Tessa. Lavender. He missed her scent and everything about her.

'General, sir?'�

Wilhelm ignored him; the title was a curse now. It had stripped him of the life he had wanted, and sculpted him into what his king desired him to be. It had created a monster. The young man looked to the general with a confused light in his eyes. They had been victorious had they not?

'Are you not pleased with'�with the results, sir?'� The muscles of the general's jaw clenched tightly as other members of the cabinet approached to look over the battlefield before taking orders, their watchful eyes seeming to pierce Wilhelm's back, but never reach his soul. The young man, unaware of the general's inner thoughts, kept on foolishly. 'You have received great honor, sir, for your service to the king.'�

The general lashed out before he could think to stop himself. Wilhelm gripped the young man's throat in his coarse hand, and dragged him ever closer to the edge of the cliff overlooking the carnage of the battle. The young man fell over his feet trying to right himself to relieve the growing pressure against his throat. The respect that had once filled him was soon replaced with fear as he gazed through watering eyes at the field below.

'HONOR?'� The General roared. 'Honor! You think, lieutenant Gregos, this slaughter brings me honor? That it sooths me to sleep at night, that my soul rests, that I am proud that I deprived some god-forsaken woman her husband or her son?'� The fiery-haired general could feel the eyes of the gathered officers stare at him incredulously. A fearful captain took a step forward, his mouth open as if to say something, anything to stop the scene before him, but a decorated man gripped his arm and shook his head sternly.

'Do they look like soldiers to you?'� Wilhelm demanded through gritted teeth, his fingers pushing deeper into the tanned flesh of the lieutenant's neck. The blonde youth raked the general's forearm frantically, not taking his eyes away from Wilhelm's face. 'Well, do they?'�

'S'�sir,'� Gregos stammered, his voice strained.

'NO! You look, and you look well at those men down there, lieutenant. They did not ask for this. They were woodworkers, blacksmiths, and priests, not soldiers.'� Wilhelm pushed the breathless lieutenant closer towards the ledge, his eyes wide and staring. 'Look at their weapons, man! Their armor! Leather hides and armed with hammers and spears? They did not have a damned chance against a battalion of our lowliest of men, let alone the king's royal army.'�

Wilhelm threw the young man away from him with disgust. As Gregos hit the ground he gasped for air and began to crawl away, dirt caked on his lips and the side of his now-pale face. 'Yes, this was a great victory,'� Wilhelm said, his voice barely a whisper, but with the silence that had fallen his words reached the ears of every man present. He looked up for the first time at the officers gathered around the scene. They were silent and staring, some in outrage, others in disbelief. He knew he had wronged the young man at his feet, whose crime was simply following his orders, but the king's wars were enduring too long, and Wilhelm's control was running too thin.

The general smoothed his mustache and continued massaging the clenched muscles of his jaw that had become sore with pressure. The moment of silence was soon broken as the officers began to clear their throats, looking to him with eyes that demanded resolution to the battle that had been won; the meeting with the head chief would be upon them soon.

'Don't just stand there, gentlemen, this cannot be unknown territory to you all. Barug, oversee our wounded and get the pyres started.'� Wilhelm barked. 'Falgrim, see to the captives for the surrender. Derian, take inventory and have it to me by nightfall. And for the rest of you, get yourselves cleaned up and out of my sight.'� Wilhelm scanned their faces quickly, lingering only upon the troubled countenance of Lieutenant General Haluin, Wilhelm's second in command. I shall hear about this later, he thought venomously as he stormed past the men, hoping inwardly that the further he distanced himself from the battlefield the further he could keep his conscience at bay.

'General Wilh'�'� The lieutenant general began.

'Dismissed.'�

'But, General'�'�

'I said, dismissed!'�

Haluin turned on his heel as Wilhelm strode past, running a bloodstained hand over his short-cropped hair, matted from the engraved helmet he held under his arm. He shook his head briefly and jogged to catch up to the retreating back of his commander.

'Well that was pleasant.'� Haluin commented, as if on something as mundane as the weather.

'I don't need this right now, Hal.'�

'Don't need this?'� He laughed darkly. 'Well you had better find what it is you need soon, because that little display back there? Well, it's going to reach King Jenthun soon, and I am sure he will love to hear that his most trusted general has begun to lose his grip over the troops, even despite this victory.'�

'Hal, I could care'�'� Wilhelm started, his voice still raised. He stopped before the rows of infantry tents and turned to face Haluin, meeting the younger man's pale green eyes squarely. 'I could care less about what that damned fool in Lanador thinks,'� he continued in a harsh whisper, 'as long as I get to go home to Tessa once this is finished.'�

'Wilhelm'�I will never claim to understand your anxiety. Never. But I have served alongside you these twelve? Thirteen? Long years'learned from you, fought with you'�and against you,'� he said with a wry grin, 'and I will not let you fall apart when we are so close to solving the problems of the tribes.'�

'Since when did slaughtering innocent people become the answer to any problem?'� The general asked, his heart still pumping fast from adrenaline. 'When did protecting and serving our kingdom change into nothing but 'seek out and eradi'''�

'Will, enough of this.'� Haluin interrupted, stepping closer to his friend, eyes serious. 'You can't still be hoping for 'peace across the lands and peoples,''� he mimicked sardonically. 'Look around you and see what is there. I want peace too, Will. We all would much rather be at home fattening up and raising sons, but until His Royal Majesty has sated his thirst for 'heathen' blood; we are still going to be here. You and I, these men,'� he turned, extending an arm towards the members of the cabinet, who seemed to be loitering about to overhear what was being said. 'We are going to fight until the Old King is dead, which doesn't look promising, or until Hellas freezes over. Take your pick.'� The brown-haired man put himself between the general and the men on the ridge, placing a hand on Wilhelm's shoulder. 'You are more than a brother to me, you know that, Will.'�

'I know, Hal, I know.'�

'And you also know that that sister of yours would be at her wits end without a handsome man like me in her life'�so if you would kindly get your act together and keep your little temper tantrums to yourself, you and I will both still be with our ranks, and still have our lovely wives as well.'�
Wilhelm stared at his friend and brother-in-law for a few long moments before brushing off his hand and marching back to his command tent. Haluin watched him go, his humor being able to console his pensive friend for now, but Haluin did not know for how much longer.

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