Smoke and Mirrors
A/N: This isn't a poem, but a short story, I guess. Hope you like it!
Ashes, kissing the bloody cement, like snow on a peaceful evening.
This is anything but peaceful.
Remains of a war, brutal and malevolent, litter the ground. Puddles of blood from blue-clad soldiers that fought 'till their death lay beside fallen swords of heroes that were brave enough to compensate for the cowardice of their people but not strong enough to overthrow the other side.
There is little sunlight, instead the air is drenched in the scent of death, famine, and war.
From afar the sound horses of approaching breaks the stillness. Four stallions trot forward, on each of their backs a royal advocate wearing blue suits with an intricately designed badge pinned on. The first soldier jumps off his horse and walks toward a body wrapped in once-beautiful emerald green cloth now unclean and ripped laying on the muddy floor. He kicks at the body's limp legs and scoffs.
"They ain't have much strength to them, those Green Warriors," he snipes to his companions, arching an eyebrow. "All talk, no game."
"Yes, that's exactly why Prince Julius sent us here," another soldier says sarcastically, turning to the first. "Sir Isaac, we were asked to bring one of the bodies to the palace for observation."
"Yes, yes, I know," Sir Isaac groans. "I just don't understand why. They're perfectly boring."
"Do not underestimate the prince," barks the second soldier. "You know he's soon to be the king."
"I know that too." Sir Isaac moves forward, pulling his horse's reigns along with him. The horse steps over the bodies as if they're nothing and stops when Sir Isaac does. He looks back at the other two soldiers and orders them to help them pick it up and put it inside the body bag they brought a fifth horse to carry.
The prince seems to think that the Green Warriors have some sort of magic to them, a force that allows them to stay alive even when millions of their kind are killed. Somehow they come back to life even after highly trained Amic soldiers, like Sir Isaac, personally decapacitate them. They don't die off and disappear, no matter how hard the Amic try.
For the longest time, there have been two sides of Amarelius, always at war with each other. The Green Warriors are the majority of the townsfolk, living in the outskirts of the kingdom, with hardly any money and little communication with the rest of the land. The Amic are the royal family and their subjects. The royal family consists of Prince Julius, who is almost eighteen and ready to inherit his ailing father's throne; Queen Romhilda, the stern but loving and viable mother; King Malik; and his loyal brother, the Duke Wellesley. Wellesley would seem like the type to envy his brother's role but he is actually quiet fond of King Malik, not his throne. He's never wanted to be the king.
The soldiers make their way back to the castle, away from the dry, barren, grassland. They arrive before the gates and a gaurd lets them in. They take the body bag to a locked room, where they will wait for the person to come back to life, then experiment on them. Then the Amic will finally figure out how to destroy the Green Warriors once and for all.
The prince comes in, a bodyguard by his side. "Have you collected the body?" Prince Julius asks, pacing around the room, wearing a golden robe stitched with the royal family crest.
Sir Isaac shows him the male Warrior, lying on a stone table, his wrists handcuffed. "Here he is, Your Majesty."
"Excellent." Prince Julius smiles. Sir Isaac breathes easier after he seems satisfied. Now all they need to do is wait for the Green Warrior to wake up.
Two days later, newest recruit Timothy Marin pads into the testing room, nervous and shivering- it's cold in this room. He goes to the Warrior's side. He is already awake, eyeing the equipment. "Where am I?" The Warrior says, staring at Timothy.
"The prince- I mean the king wants to observe you," Timothy says, preparing a syringe.
