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Day 5
He shovels the bloody slab of beef in his mouth so fast he barely has enough time to breath.
The people of Britain, no care in the world, outside of their precious little city. A city where kings, emperors and conquerers all stood. A place where enough blood has been spilt to humble any man. And it's here, men shovel food into their mouths.
Bratain. No longer a place of congregation and council. No longer the center of the world. The old world. The forgotten world. Maybe it's best this way. Maybe the land itself rejected the blood of man and rejected a glimpse of its future that could have been. Maybe the world decided enough history has been paid at a cost too great to repeat. And everyone nodded in silent agreement.
The stone and mortar of the walls and bridges are as strong as the day they were first constructed. The fields still flourish despite the harsh weather, attracting a steady stream of new game. The rivers still flow through the worst of droughts. Yet politics has left the city of Britain. The qualms of man have left this city.
The fishermen still fish, and the tailors will still wave as you pass their store, but it is a simpler life. A better life. For my experience in man has taught me one truth, men love to destroy what others possess. Even at the cost of destroying their own. Because it is not the conquest or achievement that is the drive of man, but the power to be obtained in the moment. At the cost of lives and souls. At the cost of lands and castles.
This city has seen all of that, and its foundation finally gave in.
In this city, men shovel bloody beef down their throats.
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