#Excerpt 4 - Revolution

Throughout the first half of 253, we battled on one island and then another.

The Apes and their allies were not willing to let their lands go. They were confused by our behavior, wondering what the point of our war was and why their way of life was suddenly a crusade to die for. Their loud taunts during breaks in the fighting told us about the supposed atrocities Mother Church inflicted upon them. One battle bothered me in particular.

From their side of the battle lines, the pagans chanted prayers to the dying.

Translated, it was directed at human cargo on the Holy One’s ships.

That’s impossible!

While the Holy Book mentioned slaves, the Holy One declared it a sin many years ago. All men are free, he declared, and he has kept this word to never buy and sell lives. The Apes’ lies were an insult to that good memory.

Throughout that day’s fighting, every time the Jastese exclaimed this useless tirade, we yelled our disgust and slung our shit at them. Sometimes, we showed them our naked dirty asses and begged for them to show something more disgusting. Then, we tossed rocks at their heads from above, secured in their scratchy palm trees.

The Jastese and their allies never tried to retaliate the same ways we did.

They preferred to stick with stories that painted Mother Church as evil and corrupt.

We did not like this propaganda and complained to our commander. Unfortunately, he was unsympathetic to our plight. Under Lord Bryon’s command, we endured more battles against these sinful ideas and he did not always mean on the battlefield. Because of his sire, he saw what hatred did to a man. His main order was for us to focus on the target and not the bitter words, even in our prayers and in our sleep. When we did not pay heed to the scandalous lies, Bryon saw better results.

Sometimes, it meant that many vainglorious fools were sacrificed.

The good part was that we gained intelligence about the habits and strategies of our enemy.

The tables were turned and it was in His Grace’s favor.

We had more faith in our kind commander because he had more in us. Lord Bryon organized our group better than Bitch Face so that we achieved better successes in the field. He listened and was fair. He rendered good judgement.

To show this faith, our best efforts were always surviving the day. When Lord Bryon saw that we worked better as a group, he organized keepers of novice soldiers. I was amongst the number. Sadly, we were stuck with boys who were just married or just left their mother’s arms, all of them aged between twelve to fifteen years old.

It was a difficult task to watch out for those young ones.

Most of them never listened and pissed their pants before being killed.

Bryon was never angry over the losses. He accepted them, as any soldier would, and sent condolences to the families personally. While the women were not allowed to read the messages, Bryon was courteous to send a man to say it directly.

“There is much work to be done,” he was fond of telling us.

He was not wrong.

God had to send us more trials, though.

The weather did not make matters much better. While Jast was generally warm all year round (sometimes unbearably hot), we still had moments where we fought the natives in chill that bit through fingers and toes. While I lost nothing except some pride, I found the rain to be the most annoying. It made climbing difficult and it blinded us because the wind bit against us. It was a strategic disaster every battle God pissed on us.

After so much death, the islands began to feel haunted to us.

Some men went insane and were sent home, all of them insisting on demons in the fog.

Discussions changed over time. Most of it shifted to our own mortality. Everybody wondered if they’d be the next one. Our rock had plenty of places to kill oneself, but one was always aware of the grievous sin it was. We asked each other if paying that price was worth it, even if it was to heal the pain.

None of the survivors believed in a glorious death anymore.

They did not see God’s will in their actions anymore.

They behaved inhumanly in this slaughter, nonetheless.

Even though the Holy One blessed us to murder the Jastese and their friends, he gave unlimited power to us to humiliate and maim the enemy as much as we liked. Rape and cruel killings were highly encouraged by Mother Church. While I loved nothing more than to lobe a head off, I could not bear the screams of the innocent girls and women. The shrill made me shudder, yet I could do nothing about it.

The Lord knew that I had already tried reporting it and nothing was done.

Lord Bryon could not look me in the eye for days.