I still remember the day when the clarion call of Emperor Draken's war horn echoed through the land, signaling the beginning of the war against the Kingdom of Arland. My name is Will, and this is my testimony.
The day of my conscription was a blur, the weight of the armor unfamiliar, the grip of the sword alien. I found myself amidst the ranks of General Atrius's squad, renowned for its battle prowess. The Frontlines were a living nightmare. Every dawn, the ground would be painted afresh with the blood of friends and foes alike. The men I once knew, honorable and just, slowly metamorphosed into beasts. Derek, my childhood confidant, lost himself to the horrors of war. In a moment of madness, he brutally violated a girl from an occupied village. His execution was swift, but the scars it left on our souls were eternal. He wasn't alone; the war had its way of corrupting even the purest of souls.
The war concluded not in victory but in a bitter stalemate. With the signing of the white peace, there was no celebration, only a palpable relief. My service was recognized, and I was promoted to Captain. But peace brought its own kind of torment. Emperor Draken, levied crippling taxes. Lysandria Empire streets, once bustling with life, now echoed with the cries of beggars and the hungry. My own family wasn't spared; my sister and her children were claimed by famine, their skeletal figures a haunting reminder of the empire's cruelty.
It was during these dark times that Generals Atrius, Aleron, and Tryn, disillusioned with the empire, declared their defiance. They formed the Lysandria Reformation Council, and I, like many young men, was swept up in their fervor. Our initial campaigns bore fruit as we liberated city after city. However, the siege of Alloria marked the beginning of a grueling stalemate. Every inch gained was paid for in blood, only to be retaken by the enemy.
As I rose to the rank of Lieutenant, the weight of command bore heavily on me. Young boys, some barely out of childhood, enlisted with dreams of glory. Those dreams were often cut short, like the young lad who joined our ranks one day, only to be silenced forever by an enemy arrow the next.
The fateful day General Elrik himself led the charge against us remains etched in my memory. Blood was spilled, and many of my comrades fell. With General Atrius grievously injured, we retreated to the stronghold of Keldora.
But the empire, relentless in its pursuit, soon laid siege to Keldora. As hope dimmed, a figure emerged from the shadows – a man with raven-black hair, dressed in dark attire. Lucius, as he was called, wielded power beyond comprehension. With a mere gesture, he decimated the imperial generals. His army, clad in dark armor with pulsating crystals, were unstoppable. The battle was one-sided, and with it, he declared the dawn of the Eternal Empire.
Under Emperor Lucius's banner, of red proud Phoenix, our conquests resumed with renewed vigor. The cities of Sirenia, Elaria, and Thessar were conquered, each victory marked by rivers of blood. I was tasked with a brutal mission near the city of Elaria. The village was razed, its inhabitants slaughtered. The red crystal on my armor thrummed with every life taken, feeding on the souls of the fallen.
The siege of Veleria was a spectacle of pure devastation. Lucius, with unmatched might, shattered the city's defenses. The streets ran red as the Imperial Army made its last stand. With Emperor Draken's demise, the Eternal Empire's flag, adorned with a proud red Phoenix, flew high over Veleria.
Yet, our thirst for conquest was far from quenched. The kingdoms of Arland and Serathel allied against us. As a Colonel, I led my troops into battle, cutting through Arland's defenses with ease until the standoff at Novus. Here, ancient mages intervened, their power overwhelming. Imprisoned within Novus, a cataclysmic onslaught led by Emperor Lucius himself razed the city to the ground, solidifying his legend.
News of his power spread, with whispers naming him the God Emperor. The empire prospered, and as an Army General, I was at the heart of it. Dressed in a grand uniform, the red crystal a testament to my power, I stood with my fellow generals, awaiting Marshal Tryn's address.Marshal Tryn stepped forward, his voice resonating with authority, "Soldiers of the Eternal Empire! Look around you, see the might we have amassed. But our journey is far from over. The lands of Serathel and Arland remain. We shall march forth, our banners high, our resolve unyielding. The continent shall be ours, and under the shadow of our Empire, a new age will dawn!"
As the rallying cry echoed, I pondered on the rivers of blood that had brought us here, and the oceans more that awaited.