308 a.c in the small village of Cornuaille in northern Kintyr
I remember when the troops marched through, regular men and mercenaries together.
I remember the joy that went with them, as though they were off on a merry adventure.
I remember the commander, young Coen Hood, so full of life and vigor. Excited he was.
I remember when they made camp, they drank and told stories through the night.
I remember hosting Coen in my own home, I talked strategy with the mercenary captain.
I remember when they departed; the young women of the village throwing flowers in their path.
A few days passed, and I waited for word.
I remember their return.
Beaten, battered and broken.
I remember the smiles wiped clean.
The joy crushed with defeat.
I remember the beaten commander, good Coen Hood.
So filled with disappointment and failure.
I remember when they made camp, somber air of tension lingering.
I remember hosting Coen once more, talking to him of what had happened.
I remember their reinforcements arriving and they once more marched off.
I remember the lack of flowers, the mysticism and allure of war now gone.
It was then I decided to head to Regalia.
The lives of young men should never be thrown away so carelessly.
Young men were sacrificed.
For what?
Many will forget them, but I will not.
(Credit to @canaaa for helping me
I remember when the troops marched through, regular men and mercenaries together.
I remember the joy that went with them, as though they were off on a merry adventure.
I remember the commander, young Coen Hood, so full of life and vigor. Excited he was.
I remember when they made camp, they drank and told stories through the night.
I remember hosting Coen in my own home, I talked strategy with the mercenary captain.
I remember when they departed; the young women of the village throwing flowers in their path.
A few days passed, and I waited for word.
I remember their return.
Beaten, battered and broken.
I remember the smiles wiped clean.
The joy crushed with defeat.
I remember the beaten commander, good Coen Hood.
So filled with disappointment and failure.
I remember when they made camp, somber air of tension lingering.
I remember hosting Coen once more, talking to him of what had happened.
I remember their reinforcements arriving and they once more marched off.
I remember the lack of flowers, the mysticism and allure of war now gone.
It was then I decided to head to Regalia.
The lives of young men should never be thrown away so carelessly.
Young men were sacrificed.
For what?
Many will forget them, but I will not.
(Credit to @canaaa for helping me
