"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."
- Albert Einstein
--------------------------
Sergei Arkadiy Gusev
That was the name given to me by those before me, those who raised and fed me, my family, but that all remained in the past as I stared at the fields before me, filled with ungrazed pastures atop my horse. A stallion of unbridled power and grit, it seemed to have a mind of its own, and yet it showed no will to harm me, making me somewhat grateful.
Afterall, it was my first time riding, and it wasn't exactly one that filled me with excitement, but as I continued travelling these lands with the boy behind me following. I couldn't help but feel grateful for this opportunity, a chance to live anew, even if it was missing all the fancy technology I'd grown used to.
I'll just get used to this life aswell.
It would not be hard; I've been through worse changes. My face darkens at the thought of the war I had to endure before I found myself here, in another place littered with minor and major conflicts.
I simply couldnt catch a break.
It seemed to go against my destiny to simply rest.
Chuckling to myself, as I rode the horse further along the path, the additional sound of the horse behind me moving along at a smooth pace.
I turned around to the boy before letting out a laugh; his horse could barely even be called a stallion; it was a donkey at most, a slightly tall donkey, but still a donkey.
" Ser... May I ask why you laugh like a madman? " The boy was confused, and I wasn't surprised. Why, after all, I simply burst out laughing, which was certainly not normal, well, for my men and me from the past it was.
I simply waved my hand at him, dismissing his question; it would only make him feel insecure if he heard my thoughts. I stared down at his horse once more and chuckled before turning back.
I stared at the sky, clear as it has always been, it was truly so different compared to the grey skies in Russia. Closing my eyes for a moment, I enjoyed the moment as the wind brushed along my skin and I bounced with each movement of the horse.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful...
"SERGEI! WE'RE BEING OVERRUN! "
My eyelids flew open, and I looked down. My standard issue assault rifle was in hand, and I was back in Russia, or more specifically, in battle. I remembered this moment, we won it, although we faced heavy losses from the trench raiders, we managed to gain a victory.
Grabbing my rifle, I rushed to my feet and ran to the edges of the trench. The land around us shook from the explosions of grenades and bullets hitting the ground in front of us. It was messy, but it seemed perfectly normal.
Looking over, I saw a group of men charging towards us as they emerged from the smoke of rifle fire and grenades; they were in similar equipment to us, with one thing being different: their armbands had been yellow.
Raising my rifle, I took it off safety and aimed, my finger over the trigger. I offered a small prayer that they would die quickly, painlessly, and that the lord would accept them into his gates. These men were my brothers who were simply fighting to protect those behind them.
An honourable reason.
I pulled the trigger, with a loud bang shattering my surroundings as it continued for a few seconds, as I tried to lead my shots, only firing in bursts, allowing for a higher accuracy.
"FUCK! "
I had cursed aloud.
Seeing another group of raiders, I swung my gun towards them and released a burst, this time my bullets hitting one of the men as his body collapsed like a puppet had cut its strings. I kept firing, target after target. Sometimes I hit them, and other times they made it to our trenches only to be dealt with quickly by our fellow troops.
This position I was in had only just recently been heavily reinforced, making it an awkward time for the Ukrainians to try and take it over.
The fighting would continue for another few hours with the Ukrainians eventually calling off the assault, allowing me and those around me to breathe a sigh of relief, yet even if the men stopped coming at us, we all remained hesitant to leave our battle stations. Afterall what if they came back?
Only did we stop holding it when an hour more passed, with me and a few others being the first to leave our positions, I turned to the man who woke me when the battle broke out.
" Thank you, Yury. "
He only smiled at me and nodded as we shook hands before we both left for different points of the trench, my head still ringing from the rounds fired. It would take a while before it wore off, and even then, it might not.
As I walked through the trench, I took a bite out of a biscuit I had gained from the MRE I had eaten earlier, before a young soldier walked up to me. I flashed a small smile; the boy barely even had fuzz on his moustache.
" Excuse me, Sergeant Sergei? " The boy messed with his fingers for a moment. " Would you be willing to be my muse as I wished to document the appearance of soldiers after battle? It's a school project, for well, after I leave the war, that is. "
The boy smiled at me as he said that.
I was not so harsh that I would deny a boy from doing his hobbies, especially when I had practically nothing to do at the moment.
"Of course you can, although I don't know if my appearance would make an exactly good painting. "
The boy shook his head at those words, as he pulled out two ammo crates, one each for us to sit on, " It is precisely your appearance now that would make you such a good muse. "
I posed for the boy, although it seemed awkward; it was my first time doing this, and I did not know if my pose seemed strange and unnatural, but I was sure my crooked smile definitely didn't look normal.
Raising my finger into a shush, I placed it near my mouth, showing the tattoos that ran across my knuckle and index finger. My nose still gushed with blood, but I did not wipe it off. I wished for this portrait that the boy wanted to be as authentic as possible, so that people of Russia could see the true effects of the war.
Even if it's through a blood-crazed man like me.
The boy looked up as he kept painting on the canvas he had with him. It wasn't big, but it would allow him to get all the details he wanted and needed.
" Where did you get that? The paints and the canvas, I mean? "
The boy stared up at me as I spoke, but he continued painting, " My mother sent me them, she wanted me to carry on with my talents even if it was in the middle of a warzone, crazy right? "
I scoffed at his words; all Russians were mad, it was in our blood, yet some just hid it better than others.
And so with those final words said, the boy painted like a madman, eachstroke quick and precise. It was fascinating to witness a man so in love with his work and interests that even in a time of conflict, he finds the time to enjoy his peace.
Would I be able to experience what he feels?
An unending peace?
I sat on the ammo box in that one pose, as if I were a statue, yet in this stillness, I was able to find enjoyment. Things no longer moved as if theyre were no tomorrow, they carried on as if they had years left to live, the trees, although dead, swayed in a motion that was almost hypnotising.
Back and Forth, Back and Forth.
This slowed period of time had allowed me to truly enjoy the nature around me, no matter how destroyed, it still contained beauty hidden in all the destruction. The red of the poppies that now scattered the fields matched the redness of the blood that poured from my nose.
The flower of battle, a nickname I was incredibly fond of. For it seemed these were the only flowers that seemed to thrive from the constant shelling of artillery, beginning to sprout days after.
It was beautiful, a red landscape completely overpowering the grey skies and the dead environment; it was making a statement.
As I was consumed by my thoughts, the boy kept looking up before staring down. He was a good artist from the glimpses I had seen whenever he put the photo on his knees as he tried to see the details on my face.
The dirt that hid under my pores and nails, the nails that seemed damaged from the constant nibbling, the damage one would expect from a soldier.
Broken and mad.
And it seemed the boy wished to exaggerate it; the smile he had painted on was wide and uneven, more like the smile of a murderer rather than a broken soldier. It looked almost villainous, but I did not stop him, for if that was what he truly saw on my face, the smile that I awkwardly created then that is what he shall paint down.
Nothing should be hidden simply because one believes they were ugly; a portrait must be true to oneself, and that soldier on the canvas was as close to my reflection as a mirror or photo would ever be.
A soldier consumed by the rage of war.
As the hours went by and we both remained seated in our spot, a soldier found us, a smile climbing on his face.
" Sasha! " The man called out as he waved around two packs of MRE's before he suddenly paused as he finally noticed me, "Sergei, I did not expect to see you here..."
The man chuckled for a few seconds before he walked up, passing the MRE's to both of us, " Thank you, I hadn't expected to be here. "
Grabbing the MRE, I placed it on the floor before me with my free hand as we continued back to painting, however, with one more person.
The newcomer was the first to speak up, "Say, Sergei, when do you believe this war will end? "
I pondered his question; it was one that always came up in my years of combat on the front, afterall, no one wanted to fight forever, and if they could, they wouldn't want to fight. They'd rather stay where they came from and work simple jobs, earning good pay and living decent lives.
" Not in our lifetime id imagine. "
The man lowered his gaze, clearly disheartened by the answer I had given him, but I knew he understood that it was most likely the truth. The lines haven't changed in months; we've lost significant amounts of men, but it wasn't to the point that it would affect mainland Russia.
And so all of us understood, this war would continue, and if God was willing. Then hopefully we would survive to see the end of it, although I remembered my father's words.
'Only the Dead live to see the end of wars; we living continue to suffer in its shadow.'
From that, I understood I did not want to see the end of a war but rather to see the finality of this current one.
After all, war does not truly end.
It will continue for aslong as humans live and we see the need for conflict to expand ourselves.
The only people who truly witnessed the end of the war were the deceased.
" Sergei... Hey Sergei! "
I was shaken out of my thoughts. I seemed to be diving into my head far more than I used to; perhaps it was because I simply found more solace in my own thoughts nowadays.
The boy, Sasha, showed the canvas he'd drawn of me with a bright smile on his face, and one soon grew on me as well, not that awkward false one I held for the photo, no.
A genuine happy smile.
Yet this happiness was not to last on a battlefield, as in the next moment, a high-pitched buzz touched our ears.
My face instantly hardened.
" Its a drone! MOVE NOW! "
We instantly scattered onto our feet, but it was of no use as in the next moment, everything went black.
[IMAGE]
--------------------------
And with that, the introduction chapter is completed. We have learned who Sergei truly is before he finds himself as a knight. A tired and weary soldier who was simply ended by the hands of a machine operated by a man miles away.
Any tips and constructive feedback would be useful, thanks very much.
Make sure to add this into your library aswell if you liked what youve seen so far, more is to come.
(Word Count:2222)