Bloody War

The thick red blood oozed from the open wound and dripped onto the
dry dirt, quickly evaporating in the sun and leaving a red blemish. A
soft breeze whistled past and blew the weightless dust into the sky.
Cries of agony and pain filled the air, frequently interrupted by the
shouts of orders from a general and he signalled to his men to delve
deeper into the battle, prolonging their thirst for blood. The debris
of soldiers lay scattered amongst the burnt trees and discarded swords,
spears and shields.
A lone figure stood to one side, watching the battle, as it grew more
vicious. The peasant army began a new assault, supplied with more lower
class soldiers and handmade spears. Whereas the King's army, protected
and power hungry, kept diving in, plunging into the very heart of the
battle where there was a mix of malice, envy, greed and
ruthlessness.
The stranger, dressed in clothes as black as night, hung his head,
licked the blood which ran down his hand and turned his back on the
war. He felt ashamed that he was leaving this courageous fight, defying
his king and country, and defying himself.
As he walked, his mind filled up with the thoughts a soldier would
have thought if he were escaping a combat. Then it came back. The
voice.
You weasel, it told him. You are gonna walk away whilst someone else
does your work. Your gonna let innocent civilians die, again, just
because you are too selfish to do your own dirty business. You stupid
little -
"Shut up," he said aloud. He didn't care about his conscience, or his
morals. As a matter of fact, he didn't care about a lot of things. His
life was made up of different locations. Whenever trouble started, he
would leave it behind and start a new life elsewhere. He didn't care
who he hurt, or killed. He didn't have a family, so he couldn't mourn
them.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw The Hill in the distance. The
Hill was a large mound of dirt piled high into the air that overlooked
the town below. The dirt was said to be the soil that the Romans dug up
to build the canal, which ran through the streets. It was probably
true, but no one could actually confirm the truth.
He ambled towards the brown earthy pile, when all of a sudden, he was
thumped on the head, and he collapsed into blackness.

*

When he came into consciousness, a foul smell hit his nostrils and he
blinked uncertainly in the bright light. He peered around at his
surroundings. He was lying on what seemed to be a stone slab, but what
in actual fact was a prison bed. He was locked in a cell, and being
watched by two heavy, thickset guards.
"He's awake," one of them said gruffly.
"Go get him." The other replied.