Three Lions and a field of golden violets on a white flag (Succession war)

And I am supposed to turn my
back on her
When she declares war on my demands.
Yeah, she caught me forging a claim on her.
Open warfare.
Wisdom weaponized through past battlefield experience.
The magic of warcraft:
consists solely of
moving pawns on a map
and sacrifices of a bishop or a knight when the time is right to come to a conclusion of
who gets a hold of who’s crown first.
Sun Tze said:
“Know yourself and you will not lose a war”
and he beheaded concubines
for not following orders precise
to strike fear of disobedience into the heads
of who would follow in command
and they listened.
Collapsing supply lines,
thousands good men hunger at the front line.
Thought I came prepared.
Lost the war of nutrition.
We are losing ground under tactical Guerrilla
tear made
raindrops acting bombshells,
that terrorize your safe little city state. Forced to Truce
and to negotiations for a
treaty of white peace.
War exhaustion infested land soaked with your realms blood.
Spirits broken by devastation.
Post war economy,
dark days to come.
Displaying flags in confidence of the brightness ahead
and soon to be well used time to heal from
the burden of our lost sons.
And what looked like a Pyrrhic victory in the first months turned out to be
a hard earned defeat.
A trench war for survival
A costly fight for sovereignty
Leading to one sided casualty and to unmarked graves of glorious futures.
PTSD
for those
who were there to remember
and made it
barely back and now they are drowning their memories; holding back war stories; with booze and sex and violence.
A more common sight
in this peaceful period are
headless families
And missing limbs. Beautiful stories of hard
working women
under the hard conditions
of smoke spitting factories.
Where owner-less Dog tags
with motherly care get
molted back into metal.
Raw surface to stance a new set of names.
While she lives
In prosperity and peace
With a well fed treasury
To pay for another upcoming sunset invasion.
Regiments are already stationed
On the border
start a new frontier
to gain another big payment
of reparations from you,
the one province
minor
coalition of states.

And she rosb you of your resources
To found 3 more months of raised banners to slay a windmill monster,
fought far away from you
on foreign soil.
Yes,
behind closed doors
thoughts immigrate into a Project Manhattan,
A V2,
Able to cross the western sea.
I am working on the Wunderwaffe in my basement.
My secret weapon program
that is going to turn the tights of this hundred year war.
Winners will always write history.
Which makes the effort necessary
to differentiate
a footnote in America’s past
from a chapter
in a Swiss textbook.
I prefer burned soil over raised white flags. Resistance over submission.
But my Baroness, have you ever thought about it?
Together as one war machine,
with combined efforts of war
as we are in nature bloodthirsty,
not something different.
we could be alone
a K&K dynasty;
A 21st century Donau Monarchy.
Let’s unite two houses in rivalry and
build an empire
on which the sun never sets.

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