The Sole Paladin

Prologue

My story short and simple, sucks.

My life sucked.

I hated every minute of being alive. Every second was a chore on my mind and a ache in my heart, binding my very soul.

My father was a vile man, whose drinking and bullying came to an eventual end when he was killed for a racist remark against some orcs in a tavern one night. Took long enough, I'd say. Anyway, he tourtured me mentally, threw me and my mother around like a sack of potatoes. Blood was a common sight spewing like a temporal geyser from my head. A farmer and mere lad, I was pushed aside as my mother had passed due to her disease she caught at my birth. An illness no Physician or Apothecary had ever seen. He was just waiting as the second she passed he bought a new house with our money and stole my mothers income for my family. He never loved her.

I would say I pity her, but pity gets you nowhere. I saw the signs, I felt the chills in my spine, I warned her. She didn't head my warnings and ended up getting betrayed cause of her stupidity.

Why am I even talking like I am speaking to someone? I am just journaling my inner mind. What an enigma!

I am gonna lay back.

Noone can see me here anyway. Nice and quiet. Just like death in a way. War is loud. The city is loud. Cannons and Mortars are loud. Cattle, Horses, and Birds are loud.

Now is just silence. Blissful silence.

I thrust my sword deeper into the chest of the man before me as he grunted in pain as he fell by my hand. He was rather agrivating. So obnoxiously aggravating

"Move east boys!" As the words, escaped my lips, I hurried to the left as my soldiers followed suit. I mean, I call them boys cause we are only men in appearance but our hearts announce that we are but children in truth. Men of War, Children of Battle.

This is life, War and Peace, Faith and Service, Honor and Glory, Battle and Bloodshed. Just a flyby of empty reasoning to cycle the fighting that never ends really. We are all prone to it whether we choose so or not. War never ends, War never changes. The battles go one and one till after the Judgment of God.

I can't stop a man in time, as I am in mid thought, and he becomes impaled upon a spear fired from one of the large artillery crossbows in the Northwest keep tower.

Sorry, Juphrish (Jef-rich), You were a good man. May your family be blessed.

I ran to the side wall and kneeled down below the fire of arrows wizzing past me. I quickly read my shield in my left arm, placing it in front of my shoulder and facing in a charge form, strafing to wards the east bunker in a crouch. Blocking arrows and rocks, I enter the bunker with only a few dents in my shield. Thankfully, I had a good blacksmith back home for that blessing.

In the midst of battle, I see people fleeing in fear. Men running forward to the charge as others are carried away in either arms or corpse lifts. Body bags littering the roads. Arrows and fire bombard the wind. War fills the scent with blood and steel and ash to the nostrils....

May God have mercy, on our souls.