General Dont'al, commander of the Red Army of Navorana, found himself staring as he caught sight of a young child, no older than ten years of age, staring at him from the shadows of an alleyway. The boy possessed dirty blonde hair and wide, innocent eyes that seemed to pierce through Dont'al's. The child had been witness to the brutal march of Dont'al's army through the streets of Dragana, as they laid waste to everything in their path.
Dont'al had been tasked, by Roksna, the King of Navorana, with the invasion, departing with promises of riches and power beyond his wildest dreams if he succeeded. However, as he gazed upon the child, he could not shake off the feeling of guilt that had been gnawing at him since the start of the campaign. He knew that he could not let his emotions get in the way, but the nagging sensation that something was amiss persisted.
Thus, Dont'al issued an order for his men to bring no harm upon the child and pressed on towards the city square, where they encountered fierce resistance from the defenders of Dragana. The battle was intense, with neither side willing to yield an inch.
As the fighting raged on, Dont'al's thoughts kept drifting back to the child. He found himself struggling to comprehend why this encounter had affected him so deeply. He had been witness to countless atrocities in his time as a soldier. Had he gone soft? No. Something about the child's innocence had struck a chord within him.
In the heat of battle, Dont'al perceived an opportunity to bring an end to the conflict. He ordered his men to fall back and regroup, before approaching the leader of Dragana's army, a fierce warrior queen named Elara.
"I am General Dont'al of Navorana," he declared. "I have come to offer you a proposition."
Elara sneered at him, "You think I would negotiate with the likes of you? My people will never submit to foreign rule!"
Dont'al raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture. "I understand your anger, but I implore you to hear me out. I have seen the horrors of this war and I cannot stand idly by and watch innocent people suffer any longer. I propose a ceasefire, and a joint effort to rebuild Dragana and create a lasting peace between our two nations."
Elara was skeptical, but she could see the sincerity in Dont'al's eyes. "Why should I trust you?" she questioned.
"I give you my word as a soldier and a leader," Dont'al replied. "I will do everything within my power to make amends for the wrongs that have been committed here today."
Elara deliberated for a moment before nodding her assent. "Very well, General. I accept your proposal."
As she walked forward, her hand stretched out, looking for a so-called "Peace Shake", a cloud of dust lifted towards her. She froze in place.
Dont'al tried to reach and grab the yellow mane passing in front of him. He failed for one hair length.
Next thing he knew, the Queen Elara was falling to her knees, grabbing her belly and coughing blood. The child, which he could now see was the one he let go, got back to his feet, talking to the Draganaes. "My kin, don't heed the words of this murderer! He would gut our city with tax agreement he would demand from us... Join me! Join me, now. Drut na tharanaaaak!" he shouted, running towards Dont'al and his Red Army. His companions followed.
And Dont'al sighed and ran alongside his soldiers, too. He had tried this time. He really did but there was no having peace with Dragana; and he wept, for the killing was about to start again, with no end in sight.
