One Hundred Tales of Bravery

The air was thick with the nose-scorching scent of iron and salt. It weighed down on thousands of men atop their horses, like slabs of lead on their shoulders. The smell was not all that weighed down the mounted men. Each with their own sorrows, morale horribly depleted, and their general could not care less. Their shields did nothing to protect them from the horrors that dwelled in their minds. Their swords may as well have been twigs hanging from their belts, they did not care to touch them, even when attacked.

It was one night, filled with blood and death like the others, that the melancholic soldiers decided it was worth it no more. They would never be home to lovers and wives, they thought. Their fighting would bring nothing but shame to their nation, they thought. Better to take their own lives than to let the enemy do so. So at daybreak, they would finally pick up their swords.

All of the men agreed to this, except one. This one's name was Orion, and he was different from the rest. His black hair was well kept, his beard was trim and caged. When he fought, he was filled with rage and pride. They all called him naive, they said he was filled with childish vanities. The general received word of the soldiers' plan, and quickly rushed to Orion. He begged him to save his army, and Orion obliged. So that night, he stood up before his fellow men and said this.

"I beg you all to listen, for I bring stories of bravery, of valor. Before you end your lives, I would like you to lend me your ears."

The soldiers looked to each other and grumbled for him to proceed. As they figured they might as well. The general anxiously awaited Orion's tales, praying that they would invoke some sort of fire in his army's hearts.

"I was named for my father, who was named for his uncle, who was named for his grandfather, who was named for the warrior in the stars. Let me tell you of his childish blunder."

He spoke with passion and great eloquence. Speaking of such things as valiance and honor. The men were silent, enslaved by the words of his story. Their eyes, once glazed over with sorrow and loathing, now fixed on the young tale teller before them. But after the story was done, it seemed as though nothing had changed in them. Orion, never disheartened, started again.

"Let me tell you, boys, of Heracles, and his fearless journey to godhood."

The general was amazed, as these men had heard this particular story many times, but spinned from Orion's tongue, it seemed like they were hearing it for the first time. But alas, once more, after Orion's story, the men burst into their own conversations. But he did not give up. He would not give up on the lives of these men. He told stories. He told stories of Odysseus, of Ali Baba and Achilles.

By the end of the night, he had told one hundred tales of bravery. His mouth was dry, and it felt like his lungs were void of air. But as he looked at the men with glittering eyes before him, he knew it was worth it. The sun rose, marking daybreak, and to the general's astounded relief, the soldiers did not touch their swords. They rose to their feet, their hearts aflame, and awaited the general's command, aching to show their valor in battle.

This army went on to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies, and to think they were almost ready to give up completely. They were saved. Saved by one hundred tales of bravery.