He sat upon his throne contemplating the map before him. His war council had been arguing for days , and still no solution to their problem. Three out of five of their cities had been taken with no prisoners to speak of. The fields had been burned, the cattle stolen, and everywhere the bodies were tossed aside, creating a fleshy blanket of the lands.

The argument was to decide whether the last remaining strongholds should prepare themselves for separate sieges or whether to fortify one city and route all the people to it. The enemy was just too strong! Couldnt they see the wreckage they had created? Had they no morals, no sense of decency? To just appear out of their own lands far north to claim this as their own as well? Would the greed never end?

He lowered his head into his hands at the same time the battle horns sounded. Suddenly the entire building was shaking with the thunder from the horses surrounding it, the lightning of ringing swords began to echo in the outer hallways. This was it. The fight was over. The enemy would finally win.

His generals all rushed from the room, ready to give their own lives for the sake of their king. Their screams were soon undistinguishable from the rest to the weary lord who could do nothing but sit in his throne, his eyes shut against the blood running under the door, against the death cries of his entire household.

Soon the clatter slowed down, and then....silence. All but the sounds of a single pair of feet, coming closer, louder. There was a long creak as the door opened slowly, and the ruling king of the opposing army entered the room. His armor was bloodied from the battle, from the innocents who stood

in his way. All those who had died not knowing why, or even who was taking away their way of life for what seemed like no reason. All those who had committed no wrong in their own country, those who lived as right and just as any other under the rule of their own king.

"Your rule is over, traitor," the intruder said walking closer to the defeated king who sat withered in his throne, "You knew this time would come." He now stood directly over the king. Slowly, he raised his sword, tainted red; the blood dripped onto the neck it would soon sever. A tear fell from his eye as he killed him, his once friend.

For the last time, Satan fell.