The Battle Begins  

The earth rumbled across the valley, as if waking the mountains to witness what would transpire before them that day. Out of the west, with shields in front and banners held high, the army spread out across the battlefield. Ready with eagerness, mixed with trepidation, the Western army gave a war cry that could be heard for miles around.

Their shields of blue and swords of steel radiated the heat and light of the early afternoon sun as all the warriors squinted in the brightness. Oak pikes were brought through the defensive line, fifteen foot poles peaked with razor sharp serrated blades- which were long and sharp enough to rip through horse and rider. The stocks were firmly planted into the dusty ground and angled toward the raging star. They were ready to meet the charge.

The Eastern cavalry thundered down the low lying foothill, adding to the cacophony that was already echoing around the mountains. The horses, knowing how they were to die that day, nervously fought their masters but were unable to flee. The riders, holding tightly to the reins, were clad in the same intricately designed plate-mail armour as their mounts and made it look as if centaurs were taking the field of battle. Despite being blinded by the glare of the sun that radiated off their opponents shields, they kicked their mounts into a charge.

Powerful wizards on both sides had already begun their deadly barrage of magical fire, igniting the surrounding tinder dry land and trees into ablaze. Streaks of lightning flashed across the blue sky.

Each man had made their decision that day, being guided by the light of a moral law. Their moral sense guiding them to this moment. Their conscience evaluating their every decision, perceiving the capacity for benevolence and malice. Each had come to this battle out of their own discernment of duty, whether for good or for evil. But they would never know who their true enemy was.

Thirteen men watched intently through a magical mirror from far away of what was transpiring on the field. It didn't matter to them who would be victorious, although they had placed bets. The assemblage had waited generations for this outcome.

They had corrupted the moral certainty of society bit by bit, selling the people half-truths, falsehoods and twisted ethics. Casting a grey shadow over each individuals conscience. They had blurred the absolutes of right and wrong.

They didn't care about the suffering they would cause, or the sorrow they created, and the hopelessness that ensued. Blood was on their hands for the countless people that had already died because of their subversive tactics. They cared nothing for money or power- just the corruption left in their wake to bring into realization their goals.

The people would be ignorant until the end. Eventually the masses of both sides of this war would come crawling to them for protection and willingly give away their freedom. They would rule as gods.

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