He threw his sword and his shield on the snow. The dry sound of metal made everything easier. The battlefield lost it’s colors. The roaring of the soldiers flew with the wind that carried nothing to nowhere. There was no reason to stay there. His presence was useless like all the others. Useless, like the bodies spreaded for all sides.
He walked over the cold blood of his old friends and of hundreds of enemies whose names he would never know. He looked for the empty face of a dead child. No metal on that war could make such a damage in his soul. No sword could break his guts like the emptiness of those gray eyes on the snow.
What He lost on that day, no Emperor, no war and no God could bring back. Not even the silently hours could soft the fragments of his remaining days.
Rafael L. Toscano