It had been a long ride, from Hermshire to Plassor. Atticus, raised in a small village wasn’t used to travelling on horses, due to which his back was bothering him. It was mid afternoon, still it was darker than usual and the water falling from the sky added to the gloom. After dozing off for about an hour, he got up and took a step out of his tent. Still raining, the ground around him was a muddy mess, with horse marks and puddles everywhere. As he walked around the camp, he realized the variety of ethnic groups that were present. There were people from North, from the west coast lands, the forests of south west and far far east.
“I have heard they outnumber us 4 to 1!”
“We are doomed! Our king has sent us to die!”
“We are not even soldiers, just farm boys…”
After Atticus had had enough of eavesdropping on conversations, he made his way around the camp. How am I even going to fight tomorrow? I don’t even know how to hold a sword. He thought to himself. Maybe rushing into joining the army was a bad idea. Afterall I am just an ordinary kid, never wanted to be special.
The Battle of Plassor it would later be known to the common folk was supposedly a decoy. Some farm boys were picked by the empire to orchestrate a fake assault on the enemy lines while the infantry would gain time in order to reach the area for the proper attack. Pigs willing to be slaughtered for gold.
By the time Atticus returned to his tent, it was dark. The rain had stopped and a cool breeze was blowing across. Some of it could be felt inside through the holes, making the group of 10 stuffed inside uncomfortable.
“Hey brother, have some of this ale…” said Augustus passing the bottle to him.
“You know, you ought to talk a bit more…, who knows this might be our last day”
“We really are doomed aren’t we?”, Atticus spoke in a dull tone.
“Haven’t seen much fighting myself but I have heard rumors that we might have a chance…”, Augustus replied while checking on the stew which cooking on the fire.
“They say that there is this fellow in our camp who has supposedly trained in the royal capital. He is going to lead our company tomorrow”
“Let’s hope he is good enough, good enough to keep us alive…..”, Atticus was sitting beside the tent wall, looking through the window.
“These high lords I tell you! They play with us like pawns!”
“It is anyways too late for us to do anything…”, Atticus brushed any thoughts about escaping. We would be killed on the spot.
After the tiresome conversation was over and everybody was fast asleep, Atticus grabbed for his luggage and took out a small shabby paperbook.
“This might as well as be might my last entry here after-all….”