Prologue
That morning, it was Saxe. The clouds were hanging low, still carrying some night-time blue. And the mist rose up from the tired soil washing off the dried red from the previous night's conflict leaving the crime grey. The earth was having a hard time swallowing the bodies and many mechanical arms were made to speed up the process by digging pits in the mud to throw in the torsos. These were low generation robots that especially accompanied the human soldiers and high generation mercenary robots to do such jobs. With minimalist logic and memory capacity, the low gen robots were the best choice to quietly erase any clue of bloodshed.
Condensation settled on the warm, buzzing bodies of the working robots. The low and high humming of their engines were the only sound waves that rocked the silenced atmosphere of the mountains. Sounding like the final songs of the dead whose existence was being erased forever, no one to mourn them, no one to tell the tales of their heroism or cowardice. No one to shed a tear.
The victorious had moved on; not wanting the sobriety of their killing to disturb the celebration.
A lone shape stood at a distance on one of the hills. The grass from his feet growing into the valley filled with bodies, till the plain disappeared into the blurry horizon. Must be the dew blurring his vision, he wasn't crying. He had never cried. It was unnecessary. But it was his first time questioning it.
The sun began to rise on the scene. The wet on the grass was lifting, passing on a witness to the angels. The rising rays were creeping up on the contours of the strewn figures as if putting a warm blanket on them. It was a massacre. Totally unnecessary. The blanket reached him. He shivered.
The wet on his cheeks was still there.