The Beauty of War

This week's theme is "Beauty". So here is someone's thoughts of something that's beautiful.

3E 127 - The Battle of Falconstar

"I stand on the top of a hill overlooking the charred remains of Falconstar fields, brutally ravaged by days of warfare and destruction. Legionnaires and the forces of Queen Potema clash every hour, creating paintings of blood and guts drawn on the scorched earth. Battlemages cast their spells of destruction upon their enemies; the heat of a ball of fire as it approaches its target, making his life flash before his eyes and remember what he had and think of what he could've, before the searing flame penetrates his abdomen and annihilates his insides, spreading like lightning throughout his body, turning him into ash and soot.

I turn about and notice a barbarian of Potema charge towards me, axe raised in his left hand, iron shield clutched in his right. The shield was battered and bruised, having taken blows from over a hundred different swords. When they collide, they send sparks flying through the air like fireflies on a starry night. The axe was bloodied, having taken the lives of many of my comrades-in-arms, likely to take many more once its passed down to another wielder.

His leather and steel armor protected his body in all the right places, but I noticed a weakness. A small sliver between two steel plates on his chest revealed the skin underneath. Without thinking, I raised my Imperial sword, thrusted it forward and made the enemy impale himself on my blade. With the axe still raised, he slowly sunk deeper onto my sword as if drawn to its hilt - blood flows down the cold steel blade, creating patterns of war and death. After a few short moments, his arm falls, and the axe drops to the ground.

As the cold, dead stare of a dying man conquered my sight, I felt strange for a brief moment. I felt, as if what I was doing was not right. As if killing, and warring, and death was no good part of life. But how could I think so? It is glorious, is it not? Spilling the innards of my worst enemies before my feet. Cleaving bodies and cracking skulls to the tune of the Imperial sonata. Defending my home all while ravaging someone else's? If killing was not the good part of life, then what was? Singing? Eating? Procreation? Such heinous thoughts! No, I will have none of that.

I regained my senses, and tossed the dead traitor to the side. Using his pelt, I cleaned of my sword, readied it once more, and charged into battle, all while chanting the Hymn of the Septims. It. Was. Beautiful."

..."And that is how you justify the murder of an innocent farmer?"

"If he didn't want to die he shouldn't have been at the battle!"

"The battle was months ago! I sentence this man, to execution. Dismissed."

Just my submission to this week's theme. I hope you liked it.