The Midnight War

There was nowhere to hide.

There was nowhere to go.

The sun had already receded into its niche in the dark, leaving a darker feel about the day. The somber light of the moon helped Nevil little with his problem. With his tired eyes, he gazed emptily at the night sky as he reviewed what little options were left.

The King wanted more. Seville was a strong kingdom, but it was faced with great adversity. The ESE could not currently be toppled—all else knew this—but the ESE had many enemies, and worse yet were its allies. All that was necessary was the change in leadership of the ESE, something that was not so cemented. Always it shifted like shadows with flickering light. Three lights governed its dark dance; currently, the Kingdom of Seville was the light which shone brightest, but Nevil wanted nothing else but to leave the other lights in darkness. He knew that at first, the Kingdom hadn’t been thought a serious thing. The people scoffed at the idea of this kingdom prevailing, where so many before it had failed. Its time was done; the kingdom was a thing of the past, they said. That was why Nevil needed to be sly and strong.

However, there was little Nevil could do. He served the King, but little did that help without the proper funds. They needed resources—how long ago had they used all theirs? That was why the ESE was established. They needed to gather money through the only means they knew. They knew only of stealing it from the environment and stealing it from others—no matter if they were poor or even dead. Dead, he thought sourly, thinking of the executions. He was not opposed to the idea, but deep inside him he wished for a more innovative solution. The kingdom had begun executing people, citing security as the basis for their actions. The reality was that they simply needed less people to feed; less people for which to care. Nevil disliked this solution only on the basis that it attempted to reduce the symptoms rather than curing the disease.

These excruciating conditions dissuaded birthing children. The children could not offer enough in return for the high price of their conception and rearing. Progeny was not the concern. They needed food, and they needed shelter. Like primal beasts they scavenged throughout the land, treasuring any valuables. But even in the scarcity of food, they found within themselves an inner drive to push forward and to toil the land and garner their wealth, and they did all this continuously in search of riches with which to get drunk and forget their problems.

Naturally, Nevil did not belong to this class of people. He was part of the nobility, of those who got drunk because there was no scarcity of food, and no necessity to work the land. He was part of those who laughed when affronted with the circumstances of the people in the Kingdom, and falsely asserted that the Kingdom would last forever and would continuously provide. Nevil knew that these were foolish words, and he was all too aware of the terrible dread that surrounded the land. That was why he searched to improve the land.

Where was he to go? Nevil did not want to fail his King. Unable to break free of the chains that captured the world’s minds, he thought only of what he knew. He began thinking of a way, repeated countless times in their past, written in their books of history. He searched for an answer, trying to determine which foreign land they ought to invade, and whose resources to forcefully obtain. They needed to expand, and let the outer filth direct their few treasures to their land. But even so, he had no perceivable choices. They couldn’t go to war with others. The Kingdom could cease to exist. Everything would die in fiery retribution.

He left his room and went outside into the chilly night. He was covered in fine black clothing which kept him warm, and though they fought back the ice, he knew, subconsciously, that there was a chill in the air, and he shivered regardless. He walked slowly towards the outskirts of the city, just outside the forest. He would meet with two men in the black of night, away from the prying eyes of the city. He walked slowly, trying inconspicuously to search behind him and ensure no one followed. The only thing he saw repeatedly as he turned was the slow rise of the full moon which glowed in a dull light. The obscured moon gave negligible light to the city behind him, but he could appreciate the light as he left the city and came closer to the forest.

While the moon rose slowly, the wolves readied their cries. The birds flew past—at times blocking the light of the moon. The barks of the dogs broke the silence throughout the land. Other dogs barked at them in response, and they communicated the distress ever-present. The screeching of some unknown animal dominated the skies, and the flutter of predator and prey alike could not be masked in the terrible silence. Despite their attempts, no animal could permanently break that dreadful lack of sound.

A pack of wolves stopped near a river and drank. One wolf stood still in the woods, waiting, scouting. The other wolves approached the water and drank, sometimes being pushed into the water by other parched wolves. The scout waited patiently while its brothers drank to their satisfaction. They finished quenching their thirst and slowly began leaving, but by that time, the scouting wolf had gone deeper into the woods.

He smelled prey. With a quick leap, he sunk his teeth into the human that had traveled into the forest. He smelled of the strange leather and inexplicable nuances that had meant death for so many others. This one specifically smelled heavily of a sort of wheat that had long since expired. Still, despite all these other strange smells, the underlying smell was meat, and the wolf fearlessly snapped at the hand.

The human cried out in anguish, but the scout knew nothing more of this before the other human quickly ended his life. That cry of anguish was the last sound the scout heard. It didn’t register the high shriek of agony it gave, which served to express its pain and to deliver a message to its fellow kin. The human quickly disposed of the wolf, as it was inferior. Humans were smarter. Maybe they were not stronger, nor faster, but they had the ability to perceive and register and create. The pack heard its brother fall, for which they entered the woods and prepared to attack. There was fresh meat—the wolves could smell it—but more importantly, they had killed their brother. For this, as even the humans knew, only death could repay.