Before Kings and Governors

He walked by his medical tent and could smell the stench of rotting flesh. Looking toward the cots, he could see groaning soldiers awaiting the imminent amputations of their gangrenous limbs. Then, it revealed itself to him at the opposite end of the tent. The world seemed to be ignorant of the both of them. It was as if Únreelent and it were in a world by themselves. It walked away, out of view, and as if drawn by an invisible fishing line, Únreelent began to run after it. Passing cots on either side of him, filled with pus, blood, and pain, he continued onward, pulled by a deep, internal yearning to follow it. It had only been a few seconds, yet it was already a significant distance away. Únreelent continued to sprint after it until he was within his HQ tent in the center of the clearing. He caught a glimpse of it as it entered his personal room in the tent at the end of the hallway. Únreelent walked down the corridor toward his room and slowly entered, hand on his sidearm for paranoia had swept over him. He looked back and forth and saw no one, then suddenly he heard something from the entrance behind him. Únreelent drew his handgun but was quick to put it down as he realized it was his own soldier. He gave out a grand sigh, chuckling, “You frightened me for a moment.” The soldier closed the entrance to the tent-chamber by undoing the drapes. He still hadn’t responded, or even made eye contact with Únreelent yet. That, combined with the lack of request upon coming in to Únreelent’s chamber and closing the entrance, left him suspicious. Únreelent had only gotten a brief look at the soldier’s face but something struck him about it. “What is your name, my son?” asked Únreelent, still attempting to be cordial with his underling, “Are you alright?” The soldier turned around and walked past Únreelent to the other side of the room, revealing his face once again but regarding his superior as if he were non-existent. When he passed by, a cold chill washed over Únreelent but it wasn’t close to the intensity of the chill that was to follow his subsequent epiphany. He knew who the soldier was now and as soon as he had realized it, it spoke behind him. “You may turn around now Únreelent.” It stated in an orotund voice. Still staring at the closed entrance, petrified Únreelent finally summoned the will to turn around. There it was, sitting in his chair that was now swiveled straight in Únreelent’s direction. Its head wasn’t in a dark cowl nor were its arms and legs concealed by a dark habit. Instead, it’s arms were easily set on the armrests and it’s legs were reposedly crossed. It wore military attire and the face of a soldier but despite all of this, Únreelent understood that this was a guise. With eyes welling up and hands slightly trembling, Únreelent was able to summon up words, “I know who you are.” “I imagine you do.” Únreelent was staring at one of his men, Veneero Fictous. The soul- shivering aspect of the situation was that Veneero had been killed one week ago. Únreelent had personally witnessed his death by enemy fire and had held Veneero in his arms as blood trickled down from Vennero’s head and neck onto him. Brain matter was on Únreelent’s shoes and skull fragments were on his uniform. His burial had taken place soon after. Veneero was dead, whoever sat in that chair in front of him was not Veneero.