From EncyclopAtys
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Here I am, at the end of my existence. I am still young, barely 30-years old, but the last few years have drained my vitality. I will die soon, at peace with myself and satisfied with our victory, because the Kitins have finally been pushed back, and the Matis have been saved!
It all began in 2481. Our powerful monarch gave us the order to seize Trykoth and its resources. We were finally going to teach the Tryker rebels good lesson. At that time, I belonged to the Purple Company, and we were appointed to the rearguard. When we were just a few hours away from Trykoth, we heard a big commotion ahead of us. The hoarse alarms of the war horns and the deafening sound of the drums indicated, without a doubt, that the battle had begun. My heart, and those of my companions filled with excitement. But soon, our royal officers with haggard faces came up from the front and ordered the rearguard to form a battle line immediately. Silence fell again, the drums and horns stopped... What was going on? Did the Trykers manage to crush our army in only a few minutes?
Before we finished changing formations, we got the answer, and for the first time in my life, I knew fear, real fear. Beyond the line of low hills, a red line that blocked entire horizon suddenly appeared. An impetuous flood, a swarming mass of giant, repugnant creatures poured in our direction. Thousands and thousands of Kitins charged towards us...
Our captains bellowed orders. Everyone prepared for the shock. The gunmen unloaded a shower of arrows on the monsters. But our projectiles ricocheted off their carapaces! Shot in the claws, mandibles and spines of their carapaces, I saw the bloody remnants of our army. The clacking sound of thousands of mandibles seized all of my courage and my strength. My weapons fell from my hands. Screaming like a lunatic, I ran away. Behind me, the first contact was taking place. Even today, I still hear the cries of agony of my companions and the crushing sound of mandibles as they severed heads, torsos, chests...
I ran for hours, days. I lost all reason. For days and weeks on end, I roamed as the sole survivor. I escaped, me, a Matis. I abandoned my companions, my flag, my honor, I was nothing. As a yubo, I lived in fear, hidden in the thickets. The clicking noise of the Kitin made me run and hide away, paralyzed by the idea of being cut to pieces. That's how I was discovered by a Karavaneer. He gave me a bag filled with supplies. I ate gluttonously. Once I was satisfied, he handed me a sort of gun. When I came to my senses, I noticed a group of Matis standing behind him - tens and tens of Matis also armed with guns.
Then, Disforza spoke to me. Before, he was a simple militiaman, now, he was the second in command of a group of fighters, after the Karavaneer. The Kitins had reached our country... The princes, dukes and captains of our most illustrious companies had perished likes animals at the slaughterhouse. The Matis were handed over, defenseless, to the cold, bloodthirsty Kitins. But a large portion of the population was saved, by a true miracle. Since then, the Karavan joined forces at our side. It provided weapons that could pierce carapaces and uniforms that made us invisible to the eyes of these monsters. Almost everywhere on Atys, the Karavan organized little hunting groups, each one led by a Karavaneer scout. It was one of these groups that discovered me. Their role was to find survivors and relentlessly hunt down the Kitins. The hour of vengeance had come.
For months or years, I don't know anymore, I lived with my war companions constantly. The dark of night, storms, winter, death, despair, nothing could stop us. Kitin after Kitin, we hunted these predators unremittingly. The tactic that was developed by the Karavan was formidable, even if, at times, it was fallible. When a column of Kitin fighters was located, we followed it closely, forming a large circle behind it. Our clothes allowed us to escape the senses of our prey. The instinct of these monsters pushed them to observe the terrain in front of them, and they rarely looked back to the area they had already covered. That way, unless we were clumsy, the Kitins never noticed our presence. For those who were clumsy, their lives were cut short. Several times a day, we attacked the Kitins, bringing up the rear. At each attack, ten or so monsters died. And then we remained still. A few Kitins looked back, searching for an invisible enemy, and then began marching again. That's how, slowly, our hunting groups began to whittle away at the Kitin swarms.
This guerrilla warfare would not, however, have been enough to conquer the great swarms comprised of thousands of Kitins. The monsters had a weak spot, and the Karavan had discovered it. The Kitin fighters were incapable of feeding themselves alone. The Kitin slaves had to bring them special food and feed it to them. From time to time, a column of Kitin slaves who brought food were signaled on the path of the swarm. So we laid out an ambush for hundreds of slaves that were poorly escorted by just a few fighters. These combats were the most dangerous for us - all the Kitins had to die! Our losses were more significant during these battles. If we succeeded in completely intercepting several resupplying columns, the swarm would end up stopping while forming a big circle. And then, one after the other, the Kitins would perish. How many fields of empty carapaces had we created? I don't even know anymore.
One morning, we were watching the last Kitin of a swarm die of hunger in a field of carapaces, when a Karavan vessel landed. It wasn't bringing munitions, but it had surprising news. This swarm was the last. All the Kitins were dead. The war was over. But where did we go from there? What should we do?
The Karavaneers offered to bring us to the survivors in a safe place. Some accepted, some refused. The death of our last enemy left us lifeless. We failed to defend our people, we lived to reclaim our honor. Now, we could join our brothers, where the dead dream peacefully in silence for eternity. May my words survive in remembrance of this time of adversity and heroism....
