Chapter 10:

Chapter 10: An Unholy War | Part 1

Beyond Waters

Such as me teacher had said, it was a night for him to remember. Blood streaked the ocean skies. Clawin' in puffs o' red. Men stabbed at one another, glazed in gore an' glorey. Screams let out into the sea's siren. Their children's names were called as families were forced apart.

A horrid war. The men were enlisted to serve their part, murderin' countless individuals. Slaughterin' 'em an' butcherin' 'em like animals. 

Women were not pried from fighting either. They were forced into the war much like the men. Yet, unlike the men they were discriminated against, poised against, like vermin or plague. An' out o' vengeance they took out 'eir own sides who criticised even the slightest o' mistakes. Out o' anger, much like all the beatin' done to 'em, they returned in grand helpin'.

It was the hero, Arthur, who took sword to steel an' vanquished evil. But not alone was their sword sharp. No, 'eir words were far sharper. They wished all but to talk out problems in spite o' the sides in conflict. They wished upon the world peace an' tranquility. Their emblem o' the whale not silver but gold, for 'eir words not o' the capital, nor the rest. But to speak for the people. A noble act, most would deem selfish if not for action to give justice to 'eir bold claims.

Me teacher told me all about the greatness o' 'eir actions. Speakin' loud as words, an' speakin' louder as they fulfilled every single one o' 'em. That man's back was a sign o' hope. That golden whale hung so proudly from it, like a smile on a lovin' mother, dotin' on 'eir newborn child. Radiant. Its grandness swore to save everyone it would face—as the hero leaped in front o' danger to swiped away victory at any odd occasion.

Whilst I wasn't apart o' the war me self I can't really find out how much o' the rumour was true. But if me teacher says they are then that's final. This story comes from 'eir own memory after all.

Now, the Arch-Mage was at least a good 90 years ol' at the time. He was a right young lad for an Arch-Mage. Most people managed to reach the title in 'eir late 100s. Now, I'm not sure how much you know o' magic though me lad, but a good half o' the people who use it age much slower than anyone who don't. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly one o' 'ose people as ye can see. But me master wore 'eir youth like the pin on 'eir sleeve. 

Dancin' around, masked in grand eloquence. They, unlike the rest o' the Arch-Mages had 'eir own side to play. They fought against the silver soldiers; exhaustin' magic as quickly as the eye could see. 'Eir aura, floatin' in the seas, beaconed to the waters height. Whilst I may be exaggeratin' 'eir story somewhat, 'eir ferocity an' ruthlessness was very much true. Whilst not in use o' a blade, 'eir magic pierced closer to the heart than a sword ever could. Magic is a horrid thing to be killed with. It torments your body, peelin' it apart like a vegetable an' pullin' your limbs apart like a stalk holdin' a fruit together. It's a gruesome end to meet. The blood on his hands must've ringed out at 'em. Screamin' as the souls they took began their search o' vengeance. Plagued by 'eir clawin' howls, families collapsin' at the total genocide o' family trees. Children became orphans an' women became widows. The men yelled out as 'eir calls never reached the wives they once loved.

Cries tainted the sea in that war. Even now, remnants o' it still strikes fear into the hearts o' 'ose poor souls who took part in its horrible crusade. It is known now as the Silver War. The day when the Silver Soldiers took conquest o' most land in the sea. Now, landlords pay them a cut o' the profits, an' the people who pay the landlords for land pay tax to the Capital. It's an annoyin' system, but 'eir hard efforts paid in great gramble I would suppose.

It was believed to be that the Corals started the war from rebellion within the Capital. The people were outraged by the poor treatment o' the minority. People bein' killed on the stake an' such was common back then. If you disagreed with someone's sentence you would be cast alongside them for assistin' a rebel. It got so bad that a child was beaten to death an' the mother was forced to clean 'eir body an' throw it into a pit to sleep with the rest o' the so-called rebels.

When it comes to the Corals, I'm rather conflicted. Me best friend's a coral. A lot o' the good people I knew were corals. It's just a shame 'at the higher ups are a bunch o' cowardly sharks. Always schemin' an' plottin' new ways to upset the masses, all for an excuse to raise the taxes whenever they feel like it. If the people refuse there'd just be risk o' that action to tumble into a war like it did once before.

Puttin' it simply for you lad, an' whether I should say this or not is a different thing entirely but 'ose people have everyone trapped with nothin' to do other than quietly obey. They're tyrants. An' it was the tribe who clambered 'eir way behind 'eir back, silently nudgin' everythin' into place, with a knife danglin' by 'eir throat.

The tribe viciously pulled the strings in any way they wished. An' the corals got tangled up in 'ose strings, catchin' 'em in 'eir net. No grief tore to 'em, nothin' pained 'em in doin' what they did. They just did it an' watched as everythin' crumbled around 'em. Like a murderer playin' bystander. The soldiers were 'eir playthings.

One o' the silver soldiers, stood right in front o' the Arch-Mage. Standin' opposite, two sides o' a broken apart, cobble path. They instantly lashed at each other without a second to lose. Clasped in fury an' a glazed heart o' steel. On the right the Arch-Mage, who's aura seethed through him like a gaspin' ghoul ready to bite. An' on the left side a soldier who wished to protect 'eir proud nation, shakin' 'eir head into gear. 

Clashin' at one another's quarters, they wrote each other's end on 'eir foreheads, as they prepared to take it an' reduce it to rubble. Leapin' an' hoppin', 'eir agility knew no bounds, evadin' each other's attacks. The mage launchin' magic as they flipped through the water. The soldier on the other hand, tried to lay low an' strike from under, jumpin' to doge the magic attacks o' the mage's wonder. Clapsed struck, the mage was took from below. 'Eir feet swept up by the soldier's swiftness, but too late the soldier was, the mage cartwheeled right out o' there an' sticked a landin'.

Back to each other's throats, they charged for one another once again. The soldier's dagger held behind 'em scraped the sand off the ground they ran along on. The Arch-Mage's staff whirled an' whizzed as it took off in spinnin' might.

'Eir weapons clashed. The dagger an' the staff meetin' each other at the center o' the path in the village they found 'emselves in. 'Eir eyes forced down by the power o' 'eir weapons fury, the Mage hooked out a knife from a hidden pouch in 'eir purple robe.

With a quick slice they caught at the neck o' 'eir enemy. Blood poofin' out into the sea.

Instantly fear struck 'eir heart. A horrid feelin' swept down 'em, they took off the soldier's helmet to reveal the face o' 'eir sister.

Jennice. That was her name. He called it out, into the red-soaked ocean, hoarse in cry.

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