Ella Spitler
WoB Short Story Contest
10/6/2025
Service’s Price
I’m a knight
It’s my job
It’s an honor to fight for my country and my people. I fight for the family I couldn’t protect, the strength that I had once lacked made up by duty Their deaths forever remain a searing burden I carry Their smiles and names burned into my skin with the ink of guilt I do this for them, all of it, for them.
“Liam!” my bunkmate calls He reminds me of my little brother that once walked on this Earth. The same green eyes and dusty brown hair. But Ethan, my late brother, was more delicate and innocent So many innocents were caught in the crossfire of this bloody war Me included I bear the scar of the licking fire and concrete rubble and I’m not the only one Tomas bursts through our barrack room short of breath, his hands on his knees, “It’s… steak for dinner tonight!”
“What’s the occasion?” I ask, cynical We almost never get meat and if we do it’s dried turkey. The rest of our diets are filled with rice and molded vegetables that I’m ashamed to admit isn’t as disgusting as time goes on
He simply shrugs, “Who knows? Who cares? It’s a delicacy for crying out loud!”
Tomas is young and bright. The war hasn’t yet tainted him and I send a silent prayer that it never does But for me who has been fighting this battle for a long time knows the truth We will be joining the front lines tomorrow. It’s a death sentence, believe me I know. So many of my comrades have left and have never returned, their blood poured into the cup of justice and fed to the kings that treat us like pawns
I sneer under my breath, “They are sending us to die but at least we have nice food.”
“Come on!” Tomas says tugging my arms in the direction of the commons “There are musicians tonight ”
I follow the hungry soul down the muddled halls and into the loud tranquility of our eating area Men are laughing or stuffing their faces Some are talking and others teasing This is my home. I may be a government pawn but I know why I fight. This is my purpose.
Mark slaps his hand down on my shoulder, “Hey Liam, finally decided to join the party eh? Come on lads, let’s dance!”
The music starts up and it’s a beautiful sound that echoes through the damp boards and full wooden tables The torches flicker as if to dance along and the breath of the wind that whips through the window plays with the torn curtains
Herds of males get up and dance in a synchronized manner. It may not be pretty or graceful but it’s full of life I laugh as I’m pulled into the mass, as my feet move to the chords, as our hearts beat together, all of us knowing that we may never get the chance to do this again
I wake up before sunrise, it’s a habit that I’ve grown accustomed to Usually we do training in the morning before breakfast but today it’s a whirlwind of getting into uniform to be lined up I knew this would happen but it doesn’t make it any less dreadful
Tomas is standing next to me in attendance, his eyes wide with fear. He will soon know what it means to be a soldier. What it means to fulfill our duties.
The Commander’s only speech consists of few words: “Fight well men ” In addition to a solid solute. Then we are released onto the marred terrain, marching in perfect rows to where our allies are fighting
The journey takes half a day The charred ground beneath me offers no comfort as our flag is pointed forward by our Commander. Endless rows of fighters are bantering back and forth: our army in red, the enemy in black The losses are cast aside left to rot and the injured are left to die in vain I swallow the bile that threatens to come out This isn’t my first time seeing something so devastatingly horrifying but it never gets any easier. Commander charges, his white horse rearing up, and we do the same Our voices are loud and strong channeling the adrenaline that courses through my veins.
Tomas stumbles next to me, his eyes relaying only pure terror His body shakes and sweat drips from his hair Our eyes lock onto each other and a moment of understanding passes between us. His fist clenches around the hilt of his sword and unsheaths it running into the chaos
I slash, I cut, I kill I tell myself it’s for my country, my family but Is it really worth it to be the cause of someone else’s brother, father, uncle, or friend not to come home? To see the light slowly fade from their eyes? Am I really just as bad as the people who killed my family? Were they doing it to save their own? Blood is splattered across my armor, some mine and some not My breath is heavy as well as my heart. I am tired of this life, of the fighting. Since my family passed all I had been doing was fighting Fight to survive, fight to earn a living, fight for my country, fight to keep my sanity from crumbling.
This is what it means to be a soldier, a knight
I collapse against the ground feeling a sharp pain in my chest Blood soaks my armor, oozing out onto the ground below. I’ve been hit. With what? An arrow? A sword? I can’t tell. My brain is getting foggy and my vision distorted The sounds of clashing swords and cries of the wounded fill my ears I can’t see anything now but sifting light and my breath is getting shallower. It hurts, It hurts so much.
Warm arms hold me as wet droplets fall onto my face, “Laim-” Tomas’s voice breaks, “I–
It’s hard to hear him as he seems to get farther and farther away. Or rather I’m the one that’s getting farther away. My body starts to numb and my eyelids are too heavy to hold up anymore
“We won, Liam, we won.”
Tomas’s soft whisper is the last thing I hear The fighting is over at long last! The war that has dragged on for decades is over I take my final breath and sink into the darkness Maybe what I chose to do with my life was worth it. I hope mom can forgive me for dying young and not living the long life she had wished for me I knew I would die here, that it was a death sentence, and yet I wish I could have lived just a little longer to get to know Tomas a little better, maybe try to move on from the guilt I carry, to forgive myself. But in the end, I am a soldier, this is what we do
And I am a knight afterall and this was my job