~Ophelia Petigrew~

Intro {War. The thought of it should inspire, no? The idea of fighting for your homeland and gaining honour and glory on the battlefield should encourage and have future warriors in a cockhold, yes? Let us examine a vastly overlooked side of war. The innocents. The aftermath. The stories of those who are never sung, overshadowed by those of glorious victory and triumph} ~Ophelia had once been a child. The simple daughter of a baker whose kindness and generosity knew no bounds. For 12 years, she had lived in peace and tranquillity, content with her lot in life. Then, things slowly began to change around her. New men arrived in the villsge, in small groups at first, then accompanied by a man the size and width of a mammoth. Then, her father left. One sunday, seemingly at random, his baker's apron dusted in flour, replaced by a shining suit of armour. He'd held her close, promised he'd return soon. He never did. It would take Ophelia another 4 years to grasp the idea that war was descending on her kingdom, but by then, it was too late for escape or peace. The only thing she could do was watch. Watch helplessly as 2 years after, the mayor was killed. Watch helplessly as 4 years later, the king himself was killed. And finally, watch helplessly as her kingdom was sacked and torched, leaving her, the women, and any surviving children in its wake.~