The Messenger

Long ago, a war broke down, ravaging the land into deep chaos. The land is called Daikhu, a land that used to be ruled with great peace. The chaos inspires heroes to unify the land under one lord. One by one, the land became close to unifying the land. The land became bathed in blood, toiled by the footsteps of soldiers, ravaged by the driest famine up to the storms that flood the land. The dry winds blow along the destructive battlefield. Years of trouble passed and there are a handful of lords who are capable of unifying such a troubled land. War is not an adventure. On the battlefield lies death, bloodlust, ambition, and the loud clashes of the people fighting whether over matters of land and prestige to the unnecessary and pointless reasons of the lords and men of politics and philosophy. After a war, deep hatred and fear make way for sorrow and grief for those who have died in battle, shunned by the loser's side for leaving their comrades dead in piles, and winners often have a sense of regret and hesitance for their deeds in the battle for such reasons. The most important part of war is communication. Without them, war is merely an unorganized, unruly mob-to-mob battle. Such roles are given to the Messengers. Messengers in war are the most essential yet riskiest roles in a war. They are the primary source of information and communication from location to location, bringing good news, bad news, or an update on what’s going on, and to ask for reinforcements. They will try to deliver it to them. If they fail to do so, they will die trying. As Messengers of a chaotic land, to let the letter be in the hands of the enemy will bring doom or setback to his allies, staining their duty to his army, yet they cannot be blamed if they die in battle, as to die in battle is a soldier’s honor, duty, and funeral. Dishonoring further should be considered a total embarrassment. The eyes of history look upon a castle belonging to a great warlord who was named Lan Baishan. Baishan is a title in our language, for one who has the power to conquer the land, meaning Lan is a Conqueror, a man destined with great ambition. His ambition is exactly what many warlords have dreamed: to unify the land in their great name and power. Lan Baishan set out with his great host, what he called the Golden Army. The Golden Army is the most elite of Baishan’s army, armed with the finest equipment, and their armor is dazzling and shining with the resplendent color of gold. The Golden Army marched westward to conquer more land for their lord and the lord went with them. Baishan’s kingdom is in the middle of the land, surrounded by enemy warlords. Many are considered weaker than Baishan’s military might as his name is their fear. Baishan’s neighbor in the east is ruled by a man called Rulan Mag’hai. Rulan is an opportunist king, always waiting to have an opening to defeat Baishan and conquer his territory, as his path of conquest is blocked by Baishan’s kingdom, whose territory serves as a land bridge between him and his weaker enemies. His military power is slightly weaker than Baishan's and he knew his army would not defeat Baishan’s main army. Rulan looks at a castle called Tamakar Castle. Tamakar is considered a small castle perfect to establish a foothold to invade Baishan’s kingdom. Tamakar is given by Baishan to a local lord named Bashun. Bashun himself was a great commander, specializing in castle defense. As Rulan set out a supposed short siege, the brave soldiers of Tamakar under Bashun held out for several weeks despite Rulan’s use of siege weaponry. Rulan, angered by this outcome, hatched an idea. To circle the castle and demoralize the defenders by having a lavish celebration around the castle using the resources they pillaged and took in some villages and from their supply line. As the tired, war-torn people of Tamakar looked upon the feasting enemy army in envy. Each time, the defender’s resources ran low as Baishan required most of the supplies and resources. Among the disgruntled lookouts, a young militiaman looks upon the army atop the castle walls. The man looking upon the wall is Ku’ne Sunemon, a man twenty-five of age. Despite his young age and being an orphan, he experienced war with his own eyes when he fought with his lord, Bashun, at age fourteen. He lived a simple life, and even as a soldier himself, he is set to do farming if he is not needed. Such is the fate of most peasant-soldiers and wanderers. He became a messenger when his lord promoted him due to his survival skills and his resourcefulness. Despite his title, he refused money given by his lord and even though he is forced to take it, he gave away most of it to deserving impoverished people.  “We are starving and outnumbered.” He continued to look at the vast army camp near the walls. The sun is starting to set as the enemy army began to have a jovial feast and merriment, further demoralizing the castle garrison. The eventful cheers and laughter surrounded the castle as the defenders, malnourished, starving, and low on morale, looked on in despair. “Ku’ne Sunemon. The Castle Lord calls for you.” The sentry told Ku’ne, kneeling. To Ku’ne himself, he could do a few things that will change his life and the future of this castle and his people and comrades with him. He could have declined, saving himself such risky dilemmas for a bit longer against the seemingly inevitable end. He could do so. Yet the burden of being dishonored is too much for a righteous man such as Ku’ne to reconsider his loyalty to his lord. As loyalty dictates, he went to the castle to meet the Lord of the Castle. The castle before the siege was a humble stone castle, compared to Baishan’s personal castle residence, which is grand with the best of materials and decorated with the finest furnishings. It was a simple yet effective structure. Now it is simply run-down, lacking every material needed for repairs. The soldiers in the castle look upon a walking Ku’ne in a downtrodden state, starving and underequipped. Bashun, who is in the throne room, looks like a shell of his former self. He was once a muscular person, with might and strength like his great feats. But his figure began to weaken due to the immense stress of keeping the spirits of his loyal soldiers malnourished, and he neglected to hone his prowess. He sat on his throne with a distant stare as he waited for Ku’ne, his former page and now his young protégé. Ku’ne arrives at the throne room and walks towards his lord. Bashun still looks at him with an empty stare for a moment until Ku’ne bows down and hears his voice. “My lord, you need of me?” Ku’ne humbly asked. Bashun lets go of that empty stare and slowly looks below at Ku’ne, who bows down. With a wave of his hand, Ku’ne understood what he meant and stood up. “Ku’ne, my protégé. Our castle cannot hold out for much longer. Our men were demoralized and hungry. We do not have enough resources to keep this up. I must require reinforcements.” Bashun says with a weary, tired tone similar to the raspy voice of the elderly. “But, my lord, Great Lord Baishan is far away, conquering the eastern territories. How can they reach us?” Bashun knew his lord well, as he had served Baishan since his humble days as a friend. He then hinted at what place Baishan would go on his first step to conquer. “Baishan would still be in the land of Gahazih. A neighboring country. Baishan knew it was a weaker country and might be his first step.” Baishun then coughed badly after he said this, but refused to let Ku’ne help him after the bad coughing. He then breathes slowly and then regulates to normal. It gave Ku’ne such anxiety that it tensed him stiff for a short while, like a stick. “From here to there it will take days for me to arrive on horseback. Can this castle survive?” Ku’ne questions with a worried look on his face. “We cannot tell for certain, Ku’ne. But we have to try.” Bashun called one of the guards who stood by the throne room door. “Bring me the letter, soldier,” Bashun ordered him, and the guard then went to his chamber to fetch the letter. The guard then brought the letter to him. “You must deliver this message for reinforcements. We cannot let our great lord’s land be raided and conquered by Mag’hai.” Bashun hands the scroll to Ku’ne. He looked at the scroll and then at Bashun. And Bashun looked at him, tried to walk but almost stumbled and the same guard who delivered the letter rushed forth and helped him stand up.  Bashun clung to the guard as they walked towards Ku’ne and slowly put his hand on Sunemon’s shoulder. “You are our last chance to save this castle before it is too late.” Bashun then coughed and slumped on his chair as the guard helped him sit properly. Ku’ne felt a great burden in his hands. A burden that will change everything in history thereafter. “As I am a messenger. I shall not fail to deliver. Please, my lord. Hold on for a while longer.” Ku’ne bows down and goes out. The guard then helped Bashun back to his throne as he slowly looked at Ku’ne, slowly and slowly going away from his sight. “You are our last hope, Ku’ne. Please…save us.” Bashun muttered. At that time after, this conversation between the castle lord and his messenger. The sun slowly sets and then the world is blanketed by the night sky and the many stars that shine brightly.