A young black haired man named Noah walks with others, their boots making trails in the marsh. All of them are carrying rifles with bayonets. They marched in finality than unison.
The year is 1866 In the continent of Great Britania.
Britania is a country that is powered by trade and religion. Many churches and merchants. Due to a trade disagreement declared war against the neighboring country "The Lancard Empire"
The Lancardre Empire is an agriculture and industrial focused country. Their military is well equipped and ready. Also has giant walls protecting the whole country.
There were a week of preparation before the war starts. It was the fair agreement between the two countries
Unlike the Lancardre Empire. Great Britania were not as equiped as their enemy. But they possess mages that could assist as artillery and supply convoys remotely.
Troops? They drafted men and women from the ages of 15 for 28 from all villages. They used faith as a cause in order to draft even more. Some villages never got drafted due to isolation or neutrality.
5 days left before the war...
Noah looked at a family photo... The others were busy oiling their rifles, sharpening their bayonets, and practicing their shooting with cans. The air was tense, reeled of Dirt, wood, gunpowder, and the smell of possible rain.
Some started praying with crosses and small Bibles. Noah just held his cross necklace. He directly believes in God. Not through a priest's words or a Pope's reassurance.
4 days before the war...
It was raining, but no one was relaxed. All working in the rain stacking ration crates. The ground was wet and their boots sink in the mud. Everyone was tired but no one dared to rest. Who knows, what if Lancard decided to attack even before the agreement date? They won't... Right?
3 days left.
Some artillery batteries are being set up. The mages and mechanics set up the magic infused artillery. Some draftees are setting up the barb wire and hedgehogs. Noah was sharpening his bayonet.
2 days.
The Pope arrived to give his blessings. Noah knows it's empty words. The sky is gray the smell of dirt will soon be craters and covered in blood.
1 day...
At this point Britania has completely cut off connection it's only the 500 draftees holding the front line. No retreat, no rest, and no reward.
D-day.
It was a rain- BOOM!
There it is. Death- BOOM!
15 people in the trench died from the explosions.
485 Draftees left.
There's gunfire and explosions everywhere. Noah was shooting the Lancard soldiers. Everytime he fired he's killing a son, a father, a grandfather, a person.
The trenches were defeaning. Gunshots rings ring the wind. Artillery was shelling down. People dying. Noah shot from his position missing some but landing most on the charging enemy soldiers. Bang a body goes limp and falls on their face. An enemy soldier.
The draftee next to Noah was smiling. "If we hold out we'll get to go home right?" The draftee said- Bang his head was blown off. "..." Noah didn't care and continued firing. More draftees get injured. One has their leg blown off by a grenade. One blew off her hand with a grenade that exploded while it was in her hand. There were no medics.
Some dragged the wounded to the backline. While the wounded in no man's land either crawl back to the trenches or die from the enemy soldier's bayonet, explosions, or bleed out from their injuries.
From night to day the skirmish was non stop. Screams become stale, explosions, and gunshots just the environment. And the death... Just the atmosphere. The dead of night were just as disastrous.
After a while the enemy soldiers retreats. There was a scape... A landscape of corpses, berbis, and craters. Some made graves for their comrades. Sandbags were placed back to fortify the trenches. Noah just stared at the sky. "I'm alive." He said to himself.
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πΈππππππ - πΉπΌ
π΄ππππππππ ππππππ - (π·) π°ππππππππ’ πππππππ, (πΈ) ππππππ πππππ πππππππ’ππ
πππππππππ - πΉπΊπΊ
π΄ππππ’ ππππππππππ - πΉπ·πΏ
π΄ππππ’ ππππππ - πππππππππ
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They we're told no reinforcements we're coming. Just supplies, rations, and ammunitions. Soldiers were distraught. Some weren't surprised. And some prayed to God...
5 years later... 5 years of war... The original 500 now only 13 draftees. The teens turned adults and adults turned broken... When Britania told them the war was over they didn't react. No rejoice. No happiness... They still thought they we're at war. And a Lancardre soldier approached in a none threatening manner.
Noah calmly aimed his rifle at the woman's head. In clear intent of firing. But he was stopped by a Britania soldier.
"The war is over-" BANG by instict Noah aimed at the man but he missed since the rifle casing was jammed.
The man only got hit on the shoulder.
"Stop stop stop! The war is over! No more war!" Noah and the others finally realized. And lowered their weapons. Their not hostile but still guarded for being in the trenches for so long.
The war ends. Not in victory. Not in a stalemate. It ended in a peace treaty. Yes a peace treaty. A stupid peace treaty.
"We are proud to announce that the war is over! Me and the emperor of the Lancardre had come to a truce. Their will be no more war thanks to this truce!" The King Kaiser of Britania said in a proud tone his voice amplified by a mana device.
The citizens boomed in rejoiced and relief on both sides. All praise the two leaders for finally ending the war. No more people shall perish in the war. The surviving soldiers of Lancard were relieved and celebrating, crying, and grateful that it ended after 5 long years.
Only 13 people didn't celebrate. Not a single expression. They still wore Coats and helmets, their boots still stained with mud, the rifles worn and their bayonets aged but sharp. The stood straight. Not in disbelief but in a shared expression of anger... Their shoulders carried their comrades their hands carry the guilt paid with blood... "Fucker." A girl said bitterly. She was holding an aged photo gripping it tightly. A shorter red hair man's hand twitched towards his rifle. A burly man stopped him. All of them all carried burden. But this war was senseless.
Noah was the worst. He wanted to kill everyone there at the moment the Lancardre soldiers the citizens. If all of them we're nothing... Then killing more wouldn't make a difference... Right? He glared at the celebrating Lancardre soldiers intently...
The draftees, Noah was one of them. He felt empty. Amidst the celebration the 13 stood still. None of them smiling. They were given a chance to reform as new people...
Days passed... In the Britania military headquarters...
A general stamps out records. Stamp the stamp leaves a red M.I.A one after the other. The last one is Noah's records. Then he takes out new 13 records... "These are for the draftees." He hands to a private so he can give it to the 13.
A carriage exits the capital of Britania... It was the surviving draftees. Noah was also there. Now with brown hair... He looks at his new identity... "Leonard..." He murmured to himself. The carriage was beyond quiet as everyone clearly didn't want everything to end up with just this.
Noah's face was blank. Expressionless. His thoughts? A single word. Why? Noah thought. Why did the war even start? Why did he kill so many people? Why? Why? Why? Why?.
A boy drafted to war and died in it. What's left is a husk of a human...