Epilogue

The dungeon below the palace was almost empty and almost silent. The guards continued their near-silent patrol. The few remaining inhabitants continued to exist in the darkness silently. The few torches allowing those within just enough light to walk around without losing their way continued their soft, deceptively warm glow.

Almost empty.

Almost silent.

Almost.

Thule could only giggle quietly so as to not draw unwanted attention to herself, mouth covering her grinning lips.

"Say it once more, please?" she asked in pure ecstasy.

The disgusting creature that stood in the shadows repeated what he had heard.

"The Imperial Army was soundly beaten, many deserted and those that returned to the capital tell horrid stories. Those that remain are fighting in the mountains still."

She actually had to completely cover her mouth to keep the sound of her cackles from escaping her mouth.

So much abuse, so much torture, so much cruelty… and now her abusers were getting their due!

Their due torture! Their due abuse! Their due cruelty!

And she was alive to see it all!

"Should you not be more concerned? They might kill you too, you know? The destructive power needed to defeat an army as large as the Empire's may be enough to destroy the world."

Good.

She sighed, smiling before turning to face the iron bars of her cell without replying.

"They pursue the retreating army mercilessly, killing many as they try to run… this new force sounds quite terrible, your fallen majesty."

"The Iberian Empire did the same to my people. I don't care if they kill me."

“Then I assume we can count on you to work with us?”

Her smile weakened as memories passed through her mind. She wrapped herself in the dusty bedsheets as she considered it one final time, the feline eyes staring at her from the shadows in silence.

Finally, she said “I’ll be your tool, Seljuk… If you believe it will help your people survive this new force or elevate you to power, I truly do not care.”

A cruel smile warped after the years of torture she was forced to endure before, during, and after the war with the empire, manifested on her lips then. As the memories of corpse-riddled fields and bloody forests being washed away by rain remained with her, she concluded her thought.

"I just hope I live long enough to see this empire burn."

Alpine Mountain Range

As the sun began to rise, Dennis Orville had already been long awake, staring at the Army green tractor that pushed the dozens of broken corpses into a large ditch. Another tractor waited behind it to fill the area in with dirt. A mass grave. Yet it seemed tiny from his position up on the mountain roads now.

A distance behind that, he could see the trucks and personnel coming in without stopping. More tanks, ammunition, armored personnel carriers, construction equipment, medical supplies, and on and on. As if too tired to be bothered but still curious, he shifted slightly, turning to eye some of the already constructed tents. Several of the trucks parked near a large one had a familiar red cross on their side, which was recognizable even from so high up.

Medical supplies.

They meant very little given what stood not too far away from them. The 105-millimeter Howitzers sat silent now. Waiting for instructions and coordinates, their canons staring high to the sky, their crews standing by.

His tired gaze turned to the surrounding mountains that seemed to pierce the now pink sky above, the cotton-like clouds indicating that fair weather was expected for the day, therefore marching up and down the mountain trails the enemy had retreated from wouldn’t prove any more difficult than usual. Still, he remained there, sitting on a rock that had been eroded by the wind to have an almost smooth surface that was just jagged enough to bother him.

But it did nothing to distract from a single thought in his mind.

How many did I kill?

He had no answer and doubted he would ever get one in his lifetime. Indirectly, directly, neither… it didn't matter one damn bit given the bloody results below.

He glanced back to a nearby ditch, among the cratered chunks of the mountain were the remains of what had once been an enemy force, shattered blades and armor poking out of the dirt and rock as though a landslide had killed them and not the coordinated efforts of their platoon and the American Howitzers. There was little to feel about it as he stared at the mess. They had started the war, after all.

And yet words continued to echo in his mind.

You think your mother wanted that for you?! Your father?!

There was only a whistle then, sharp and immediate to the point it could’ve been mistaken for a bird.

Dennis suppressed the urge to yell "Yes, captain!" and silently stood up alongside everyone else.

Break time was over.

Picking up his M16 and moving its strap over his shoulder in an awkward motion, he ignored the echoing words within his tired mind and marched on, turning around before walking back down the narrow mountain path that seemed to get narrower, the edges sharper, as though some kind of large snake had broken through the rock before rising into the sky above. In the distance, more artillery erupted, and a few seconds later, he heard the explosion of the rounds impacting a target. Briefly, a memory shone in his mind, a dove with a broken wing in his hands as his mother looked it over. It was painfully clear the bird would have died soon even then. Still, he had brought it over to his mother, his childish mind perhaps clinging to some naive hope she could fix it.

"You can't always fix things, Dennis." She had told him not long after.

He kept the thought in mind as more artillery rang in the distance.

Silently keeping up with the others, one of their infantry escorts very quietly began whispering to Rhodes, Dennis barely catching the question.

"Village should be just down this trail, right?”

He saw his captain nod silently as they studied the half-folded map, even now riddled with marked positions for artillery. Dennis pushed all thoughts aside and focused as he walked in step with the others.

A new day awaited.