The Storyteller

Prologue

The battle had been raging for six days straight with no respite, yet despite the loss of life from both sides, Qing Cang did not look to be scaling it back any time soon.  No matter how many of his men that Mo Yuans vast armies were able to slay, the Overlord of the Ghost Tribe had them replaced in a second.  And having made no headway to bringing it to an end, Mo Yuans Generals were becoming frustrated at the lack of movement.

"High God Mo Yuan, we cannot sustain this much longer. We have already lost over one hundred thousand lives in just six days." One general bemoaned.

Standing alone in the centre of the main tent which housed his battle formations and strategic war summaries from every war known to date.  HIs back was straight and his head high as he faced off against his own men who were losing hope and with so little food left to feed the living, many were now reconsidering their prorities.

"Food is running out, the men have taken to slaughtering the weakest of our horses.  If we don't get provisions in for them, they will eat all of them." another groaned in despair.

"I caught several of our men eating the Ghost lands beasts, the hunger is driving them to such extremes, we need....."  another cut in only to be shut down when another yelled over the top of him.

"Some are already leaving the battle...."

"High God Mo Yuan.  My people are already so few, I cannot allow all of them to die, I am taking them home." A young prince called out and immediately his words were like a balm to the rest who also suggested that they too would withdraw.

The noise in the tent became deafening, and though he was listening, Mo Yuans mind had gone back to his childhood and a lesson in self preservation.  His father had once been the ruler of every realm including the Ghosts, and under him, no one would have dared to start a war because he would have squashed it within seconds.  Not just because he was far more powerful than the rest, but because the people saw far more value in the peace he offered, but the few times he was forced to show his hand, he took the time to evaluate every possible outcome and nor did he ever enter anything without a myriad of contingency plans in place.

One could have the best strategic plans in place, but if one did not have a contingency plan, then it merely meant that arrogance was what was leading the war and he would fall.  And in many ways, Mo Yuan could see every mistake he had made in allowing this war to continue.  He had entered it with far too much confidence in his abilities, far too many trusted his capabilities and his arrogance in gaining alliances that had never fought before saw his ego soar.

Only now, too many were dead, his own people had lost trust in him and ultimately he was failing every single one of them.  But none would have realized the hopelessness he too was feeling, because he stood ramrod straight and expressionless.

Raising his hand to bring order, the leaders and generals present quickly quietened down to afford him the right to speak.  Had they been anywhere else or in a different time, Mo Yuan would never have allowed them to lose control of themselves.  But six days on the battlefield, exhausted and hungry, he really had no choice but to give the final order for dispersement.  It was either that or they all died, and though he was prepared to die for them all, he could not allow anymore to die, not on his orders.

"Take your people home, heal and recover your strength.  We meet in three months." he said just loud enough for them all to hear.

No one bothered to thank him for the reprieve, and no one bothered to remain behind to assist him with what had to follow.  Because even though he refused to surrender to that man who was hell bent on detroying everyone and everything, he too would be gathering his own men and offering them the chance to leave, while he himself would reenter the battle til the bitter end.