To Battle

A small orb of fire grew from the middle of her palm like a candle, and it danced for a moment before it joined the wind. It was a breezy day in the Sunny Plain, and it cooled our skin of our sweat from the day's practice. I sat down on the grass along with Arlaune, an apprentice summoner recently assigned to the Holy Novus War.

Her Paimon, some meters away, looked very young, and did not show the tell-tale battle scars of the other Fausts' summons. However, I saw in her eyes a pure desire to become stronger, and as her fledgling summon battled against the Diggers and Stinkbugs, I had no doubts. She had come here only a year ago, she once told me, for she wished to be recognized as a high priestess.

"I did not want to fight in a war, truth be told; I wished to save lives," she told me. "Yet, I see now that in the circumstances that we are in, one must kill others to protect. It is a sad truth."

In the way she closed her eyes in contemplation, I could see sadness, acceptance, and resilience. As I remember her words now, I wonder whether or not it still applies. This war pales in comparison and length to the War of Color, yet somehow, it brings with it a sense of urgency that appears greater than the latter. Why? I am not certain, myself, but some prophets claimed a vision of an Apocalyptic Race. I am not sure if I believe this, but there are also many other things in this world that I doubt.

Arlaune looked at me as if searching for something lost to her. "You are a strong warrior, Beramonde. What keeps you fighting?"

In the distance, a small group of children played freely under the sun, and their shadows, cast on the ground, were like black waves upon the rivers. One of the boys wielded a makeshift sword from a tree branch, while the girl brandished a doll and tied it to the young boy's back, as if it were an Inanna. And as I watched the children act out scenes of battle, I lost my answer to Arlaune's question.