Around the table sat all of his generals, but here was one empty seat.
"Ah, my son. Finally you chosen to join us. It is time," he said.
"Time for what, father?" I asked.
"Time to bring bloody death to our blue eyed enemy!".
Suddenly the room filled with shouts of war-frenzied generals. Years had it been since we last went to war. I had begun to like the life of peace and tranquility. Nevertheless, I was the son of the mighty war king, and had to, as my father said, "bring bloody death to our blue eyed enemy." .
For the next six months or so, all we did was stay in the castle and discuss strategies with the generals, and carefully plan our invasion of Hurropea. One day, I stared down from a castle window and observed young warriors as the shined their armor and sharpened their blades. I looked at how the blacksmiths banged their hammers against heated glowing steel to forge weapons and the way craftsmen carved arrows out of wood. .
When the generals had left the room, my father summoned me to a secret room, behind one of the bookshelves against the wall. He closed the door behind us and immediately began searching for something in a chest. He chuckled deviously, then turned to face me, clutching something in his hand. It was a skull, on a pike. .
"I've kept this here for many years," he said, "to bring back the memories of my glorious battles.".
He sighed and stood there a while, recalling days gone by. To me, a severed head on a pike seemed a grisly trophy to be kept; or worst, displayed. .
"I miss it," he said softly. "The scent of a burning village, the sound of butchery, the way blood spills out of a decapitated body. And the way armies would flee and how we would ride them down. The way I would emerge victorious, time and time again. I miss it. Too long has it been.".
He held me close and sighed again. Obviously the weight of the memories also brought great sorrow.
"He's a Moor," he said, staring at the skull on the pike, "I think.