Army Battle The Red Hand Vs. Cipher Nex

A foul wind whistled its ominous harmony through the tops of distant trees. It swooped across a rocky, frozen field pockmarked with the dead. The thin coating of fresh snow failed to hide the evidence of the slaughter that the day had witnessed. It made a silk veil over the face of a troll. Christopher climbed atop a jagged boulder and gazed upon the face of his gruesome bride. He was surprised at the strange calm that inhabited the scene of a particularly violent conflict.

Large grey rocks pierced the snow like rows of jagged bloodstained teeth. Many of the dead still slumped against them. There must have been a thousand corpses strewn across the valley; the main battle had taken place there. His troops had lured a contingent of armed Ethereal Sway followers through the mountain pass and the forest to ambush and systematically slaughter them in the rocks.

It had been a clever plan concocted by his left hand man, Sir Ciaphas Gellunberg,that had freed an entire town from the oppression of tyrannical Church forces. Not only did it allow Cipher Nex to fight the battle on their terms, it also kept it far from the civilian population that they were protecting. It was so effective that Christopher opted to ignore the questionable levels of unadulterated brutality it involved.

The chef slid from his perch and trudged onward through the icy tomb. He was a sight both horrifying and repulsive to behold. Fresh red stains covered much of his chef coat and sticky gore coated his heavy knife. Smears of blood and mud streaked his face and hair, making him appear more savage beast than man. That was only natural given the intensity of the battle. He’d fought so hard that his limbs dragged like lead weights.

During this moment of tired tranquility a somber question formed infiltrated his mind. When did killing become so easy? The notion had never occurred to him, perhaps because it had been a gradual transition. When he first left home barely over a year ago, the biggest things he’d killed were some wolves. Then he moved up to zombies, though he never considered them anything greater than animals. From there he progressed to the Citadel, where he killed several actual people. They didn't count though, since the monks revived them afterwards.

Each laid another stone on the road to damnation. After the Citadel he killed in self-defense, and after that in battle. He would kill to protect himself and others when they were in danger. Soon, as his definition of “in danger” became looser and looser, that the motive of protection expanded to include vengeance as well. That was when he killed a priest of the Sway in cold blood.

Of course, Chris rationalized as much as humanly possible. He called it “justice” and convinced himself that he was merely trying to prevent other lives from being destroyed the same way that his was. It was a lie and he knew it; he wanted revenge for the death of his mother. And beneath that burning desire for vengeance writhed the desperate longing to alleviate his guilt for not being there to defend his only family during her time of need.

Even that bloody murder had left the chef emotionally devastated. In the months that followed, he’d honestly tried to atone for his sins. His efforts only led to even more killing. He didn’t indulge in revenge again and only fought to defend innocents and combat the agents of tyranny and oppression, something had changed within him. He’d become hardened and cold. Each slain enemy felt less real and personal than the one coming before it. The chef eventually stopped wondering whether the man he’d killed had a home or a family that would miss him. It became conveniently mechanical. Had he lost his humanity?

Just as melancholy began to take hold, Chris laughed at himself. Why was he fretting over such a triviality? War and killing went hand and hand. Death was the most inevitable part of life. That was the great irony. He wasn’t some kind of monster for not agonizing over every death. Yes, he’d made mistakes in the past – as had everyone. That was why he fought for peace in Salvar and the freedom of its people. Sometimes peace requires war to achieve. He couldn’t overwhelm himself with guilt for killing when there was no other alternative. Besides, it wasn’t as though he enjoyed it.

He shivered and sighed wearily as an ominous chill ran down his spine. Not yet, anyway.

“Master Knighton!” A voice both urgent and at the same time eerily emotionless broke the chef from his introverted daze. A trio of black-clad warriors slipped out from behind a cluster of boulders and approached him. They were the Shadows – the brutally efficient core of the Cipher Nex army. They served as the primary soldier as well as effective scouts when the situation called for it. The three knelt before their leader in unison.

“Stand,” he commanded. The underlings obeyed immediately. “What is the status?”

“We routed the enemy, sir,” replied the lead Shadow. “Casualties in our division were light; only twenty three dead counted so far from our ranks. We’ve yet to receive details from the other detachments.”

“Good.” Chris traced the blade of his knife with his thumb as he thought. “Have our troops begun the pursuit yet?”

The Shadow hesitated. “Not yet, my lord. Sir Ciaphas ordered the soldiers to halt.”

The chef’s fists tightened and he narrowed his eyes. “Did he give a reason why?” he asked curtly.

“No, but he did request that we relay his request for you to meet him at our northern lookout post right away.”

Right away, huh? This had better be important.