The Lucky Altenian I

written by Long47

Darkness had covered the land in its blanket, as only the few warriors in the village moved about. They were Altenians and this was their homeland, but they now were faced by an invasion by a suprisingly large and fercious army. The King had ordered every village to prepare for an all out retreat from the country to a distant land of peace where they could rebuild. Unfortunately some of the smaller towns already under siege had little choice but to hope for a window of oppertunity to present itself. This is the story of a boy only 14 years old who would save his people.


The men sat in their makeshift trenches facing the enemy lines. They were grimmed-face and dirty, not a one a coward, but they were not fighters. These were simple farmers who had taken up their farming tools in defense of their home. The had no mind to left the siege and many were died or wising they were.

"What is that soldier saying," questioned one of the men in the trench.

"I don't know I can't hear him," replied his childhood friend sitting in cold, muddy water.

"I think they are asking us to surrender," commented the man walking past, the oldest one of them.

"Well, could surrend be worse then this?" questioned the first man.

"You idiot, if we surrender they will kill us, rape our women, and enslave our children," scowled the man sitting in water.

"You did hear what they did to Fru, the village up the road?" asked the man who had assumed leadership," The killed every male within miles and enslaved all the women. The houses were burned to the ground and their Holy Temple disecrated."

"Wait just a minute..."warned the second man.

"What is it?" demanded the first.

"Is it just me or did their front line just move forward," asked the second man

"MEN TO YOUR DEFENSES!!!" yelled the commander as the first enemy soldier reached the trenches. Soon it was just a mess of bodies battling one another. Everything from weapons, fist, to teeth were being used. And the muddy waters of the trenches ran red with the blood of both sides, but in the end numbers prevailed. The enemy began to gradually rape, pillage, and plunder their way through the small village. Burning every empty house they came across.

A boy barely having seen 14 winters watched from his hiding place the beating and the pain the enemy put his mother and sisters through, leaving their battered corpses on the ground as soon as their sick games were finished. He stayed in his hole and watched as the only home he had know was set to flames, and as the walls began to give way the roof collapsed. Falling on the boy and covering him in the rubble. Though injuried in the fall, the roof covered his limp, unconsious form as the enemy searched the village one last time. They miraclous didn't notice the boy, left among the ruins of his life....

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