Battle of Agincourt, 1415 (Fictional Captain s POV)

Trees left with as much hope as the English army who stand pridefully though with their shoulders slumped from diminishing hope of survival, dot themselves wildly among the arid battlefield. As Carter, a trusted army captain, ponders along with King Henry V's honorable yet evocative monologue he can’t help but picture the now soddenly brown shrubs stained crimson after the coming days. Shocked as the king presents the soldiers with the generous offer of returning home with their transport taken care of, Carter stars at Angus in awe. Is eternal honor and dignity worth the opportunity to no longer take a breath? Once the King leaves his men with the decision of staying to fight with renown or cowardly returning home, the sun begins to lower, puncturing itself on the distant mountains and soaking over the sky, similar to the fate of the many men standing before Carter.

Now that the cruelly ethereal stars wink from their preferable position of power, Carter and the rest of his brothers-in-arms rest upon termite-ridden logs. Lost in the fog which is his own mind, Carter dismissively nods long to the turmoil of his fellow men whilst contemplating his own future. As his closest friends of the group, Angus, head towards the makeshift homes they have become accustomed to, one by one the men disappear. Carter begins to subconsciously pace around the flickering beast, caged in a cell of wooden confines and finally allows the gushing flood to break free from the enclosure of his mind.

“I am left in split minds as shall be my body if I goest into battle,

‘longside my fellow soldi'rs, fellow friends, fellow brothers-in-arms.

Coequal though I shall be alongside family how might I fathom that I will no longer have a chance to be alongside those bound by blood and eternal amour.

Dost as my king sayeth, bellows a bawbling voice within mine own head though I know my honorable king would prithee amour overcomes all.”

Placing his calloused hands to his throbbing head, Carter once again drops onto the wooden logs in utter despair.

“Nay, I mustn’t forsworm my brothers, I must square in the blood bath of war for the flower hath not yet blossomed its full destruction.

Once withered and feeble I shall return to mine accustomed ways with more renow.

Sithence the king's uplifting monologue he has unleashed a sense of unbound hope like a puissant wild fire,

flickering flames like the mild fire before me .

Though I continue to ponder upon this forsaken fate and dream of my loved ones praying at home

whose enchanting desire exceeds to extinguish the fire my king once let loose.

My mind set must shift to bring back honor to my family,

I shall return both nobler in the mind and worthy of a number of desires.

As a captain of war I must lead my soldiers, my men, my family into battle and pass on wisdom, gratitude and empathy.

A chance to see, a chance to feel, a chance to live, this is what I shall jeopardize

for the chance to not just see, to not just feel, but to properly live with the dignity that one carries once they have broken free from the jaws of heartbreak and sorrow.”

In a daze of adrenaline and certainty Carter leaps from his seated position into the air raising his fist in contentment. For his dignity will now be preserved and will no longer decay.

“Aye! I shall stay hither and goest into the depths of war and face the undesired dragon breath of carnage.

For my king, my family, for myself. Thine self honor is of the utmost importance and shall I pinch the passport from my king and be set on my ways, my honor and self worth will flutter and break like the delicate wing of a butterfly.”

Though Carter has begun to write his fate of war he still contemplates whether he will be accompanied by his fellow men and who will make the cowardly decision of returning to the safety and familiarity of home.

“I ponder if my fellow comrades will undertake the cherishable commitment of battle

I am earnestly hopeful that Angus’s heart sprouts the same courage as mine.

Thy terror of war is far less unforgiving if accompanied by a friend, by a sworn brother such as Angus.

Mine mind is a’las put together like two intertwining pieces of a puzzle

It is now just the garboil of who shall accompany me in this life altering experience.”

Reefed from his internal turmoil, Carter throws his head in the direction of a nearby shrub, startled by the sound of rustling leaves. The sound seemed to carry for quite some time until an abrupt silence. Caught in the midst of curiosity Carter wanders towards the origin of the distraction, noticing as he creeps closer a metallic scent wafting through the air. Reaching the shriveled plant Carter parts the leaves to glance a ghastly sight.

Scarlet fluid seeps into the lifeless soil and pools around the limp body before Carter. A familiar soldier is slumped against the stump of a burly tree bearing a gory slit across his neck. There is no need for Fluellen to wonder who committed this horrific sin. A French soldier? A traitorous brother? Neither. Angus’s hand, pail from loss of blood is wrapped around the hilt of a knife, stained with what Carter can only assume is his own blood. Overcome with hysteria Carter pictures following his comrade into the eternal sleep of death, where dreams were no longer a thing of rest.

Repulsed at his foolish thinking Carter shakes his head in disgust and raises his hand to his head in salute for the soldier before him. Now he isn’t just fighting for his own dignity and honor but for the sake to carry the wondrous ambition of his fellow soldier….. friend…… brother beside him. The battle before him is now no longer about his own renown as he must now avenge the eternal cost of honor in wartime.