They knew him.
He was a great soldier.
A soldier who had learnt only to win.
Win even the fiercest of battles.
Battles against relentless enemies.
Enemies who knew about him.
That he was a great soldier.
Another battle beckoned him.
Beckoning that demanded steely armour.
Armour though was perfect but for his heart.
Heart which said that the battle was lost.
Loss was the voice of even his mind.
Mind which had never failed him.
He who was a great soldier, decided to fight on.
Fight he did with all his valour.
Valour which brought him on the verge of victory.
Victory he knew shall come at someone's loss.
But loss was the voice …