Columns:
Men with a Mission: Final Battle
 
 
By: Wouter van de Zandschulp

Thunder cleaves the dark night sky. Lonely, tough men with no hope left lift their wet swords in the sky.
"For... victory..." one tries to call out. Only one rough voice can be heard, immediately followed by a cough.
"Vic.. tor..."
"v...v... AAAAHHHH!!!!"
The mysterious enemy of men with pitchforks seems victorious.
On a hill, one grim man with a crown watches. King Leopold the First sees his men crumble. He seems real mad. He waves his fist at a dark tower far beyond.
"You blasted witch!" he calls out.

Years of torment his people has suffered from the Witch of the Dark Tower. Though her name may not be original, her army of magical pitchfork-men is. And quite overwhelming too. How discouraging it is for the poor king to see his men crumble before them. And now, his last chance, his last army of brave man is losing all in a battle beyond any hope.

He never really wanted to be a king. Being happy with a family, that was more what he would like. But the responsibility and the power of the crown weighed so much upon him. He never was free of it. He was doomed to stand on hills in thunderstorms to make all hope disappear. The cold raindrops make him feel that there is no hope. He feels dead inside and wishes he was, just like his men. But he can't. The king must live.

And now, the final battle. It is about to all come to an end. The rain combines with tears. Tears from the king. He looks surprised. He never cried, not for years. He got used to pointless slaughter. But now... now it's almost over for good. Time to confront oneself. Time to come to grim decisions. The final battle was over. He never stood a change. He summoned his horse to move from the hill. The men among him looked surprised. He did not look back to the last slaughtering on the field. With a grim face he turned.

He never stood a chance, really. How could he ever have thought he would? Why would there be any hope against weird magical creatures? There was no fair play or honesty in that. It was not natural and all wrong and therefore you could not fight it. Only losing was an option.

He was a sad king. Never had a chance, never had an option. Only the despised, blasted crown. His horse slowly walked up to the hill of the Dark Tower.

King Leopold got off by the door. He banged his fist on it.
"Witch! Open up! It's me! Leopold!"

The door went open slowly. With surprised eyes the witch looked at him.
"You win" King Leopold said. "You win. I am sorry."
He hugged her.
"I will never forget Mothers Day again."

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