A gust of wind slapped my face as my eyelids flicked open. My body, surrounded by smoke and blood felt sharp pains throughout every limb. I managed to scuffle myself to my feet as I squinted, trying to see through the blood soaked smoke.

It was quiet, a little too quiet.

Flashes of memories began racing through my head as I stood there, until finally I was able to recall what I was doing in such a hellish looking place.

I was part of King Ramosi’s main army. Around 900 men, including myself were part of the vanguard, leading an attack on the opposing force of King Urma. As we had set up camp while on route to clashing with Urma’s army, a few scouts had returned, bearing frightening news.

According to these scouts, Urma’s army had around 3,000 to 3,500 men, more than tripling our force. A fight against them, especially considering they were on the defensive and had better knowledge of the terrain, would be suicide.

Upon hearing this news, a few of the soldiers began discussing amonst themselves. Whispers of treasonous plans were hatched, until the whispers became loud enough for the Vanguard’s leader, commander Nyfellus, to hear.

Surprisingly, Nyfellus didn’t lash out at the soldiers after hearing these plans, in fact, he was on board with them. To him it made sense, why fight for leader that has sent them on a suicide mission? Furthermore switching from King Ramosi’s side to King Urma’s had more of an upside. Urma, was a more grizzled and war experienced leader, being twice the age of Ramosi, he already had established a legacy of being a brilliant war tactician. On top of this, his total number of soldiers, encompassing all of his armies, was rumored to be larger than Ramosi’s.

It had been decided, the Vanguard, by order of Nyfellus, would send messengers to Fort Tram, where Urma’s army was stationed. These messengers would inform the commander of Fort Tram of their desire to join King Urma’s forces.

Unbeknownst to everyone however, was that the scouts who had informed everyone of Urma’s numbers, were liars. Ramosi, suspicious of his commander Nyfellus, had decided to put him through a test. Just an hour’s march behind Nyfellus’s army were reinforcements of 2,000 soldiers. The plan was simple, the scouts would lie to see if Nyfellus would decide to die fighting for his King, even if the odds were stacked against him, or would he turn tail and submit to the enemy. The reinforcements arrived at nightfall. Nyfellus and his captains, delighted by their appearance, ditched the initial plan to betray King Ramosi.

As the battle concluded with Nyfellus’s victory, the secondary army immediately began slaughtering the vanguard, turning from allies, to butchers.

I did the best I could fending for my life, killing a dozen of my attackers, until one wounded me. I managed to escape and hobble myself away from him, collapsing and passing out as I did so.

And that is where you find me now, awoken from unconsciousness, staring at the bodies of my dead comrades. But my eyes drifted…they drifted away from looking at my comrades, to looking at the sky. My head rolled on the ground, detached from my body, a man with a blade had snuck up behind me, …and that was the moment I realized, it wasn’t ever the plan for me to make it out alive. For I am Nyfellus, the traitorous.