Fictober 09: “There’s no right side to this.”
Hendrik sighed as he looked down from the parapets of his newly won castle. The cold stone was rough under his pale touch as he gazed down upon the courtyard, filled with the wounded, the dying and the dead. Vasile stood nearby, waiting for his master's orders as always. The man was practically his shadow, nearly always silent and ever present.
"Vasile, do you think we did the right thing tonight?"
The older looking man stepped forward. His brown hair was graying at the temples and the lines of his face were carved deep by worry and woe. His eyes studied the face of the young-looking Hendrik. "Do I have your permission to speak candidly, master?"
He had been prepared to make a flippant remark, but upon seeing the face of his old friend and confidant something twisted inside of him and the words died on his lips. He merely nodded and murmured, "Of course."
The old general walked to the opposite wall of the parapets. He gazed out over the city, fully a third of which was a smouldering ruin while several fires still burned. "There's no right side to this." Vasil stated matter-of-factly, "Nor a wrong. These people were living under a tyrant and a murderer, brainwashed to do his bidding without question. Hell, in the end they tried to set their own town ablaze to keep it from us." Hendrik sighed, looking up at the moon. "While we are little better. Inhuman monsters who came to rob them of their beloved king. How am I supposed to reach out to people like this, Vasile? People who have been taught since birth that their king is a god and whatever he says is gospel?"
"You must be the iron hand in the velvet glove. You must be kind, humble and accomadating in appearance, but you must be steadfast and unwavering in reality. You need to guide these people out of the darkness that they have lived in for so long." Hanging his head, his face cast in shadow by the moonlight Hendrik slumped against the wall. "It will never end, will it, Vasile. In the end I can trust no one to rule in my stead. Every single time I free a land to their own devices within a century or two some new madness sprouts up and engulfs them."
Vasile stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his master's shoulder. The flesh beneath the silk shirt was cold and hard as iron. "You cannot blame yourself, master. Come with me and have a drink. It will do both you and the dying a bit of good."
