They were so close to winning the war against the elves when their greatest hero was kidnapped by...the Red Cross?

This is a themeless prompt, so I’m free to write whatever I want. If you want me to dance to your tune, you can commission me. My rates are on my profile.<br><br>I jumped out of the plane, the cool air filling my helmet as I descended towards the drop zone. <br><br>I wish I could say that I was a paratrooper, but I wasn’t. I was an old man, well over retirement. I had lived through a war (although I wasn’t in the military), and I did everything I could to avoid this one. But the call of war comes to some people whether they want it or not. So I jumped out of the plane with fifty other volunteers, all of us flying toward the drop zone. <br><br>I could already see the battle raging below me. This was the final battle, the war was almost won. Today we would crush the last of the enemy forces, and we could finally live in peace. <br><br>I didn’t want to fight this war. Who would? I certainly didn’t want to be here. All I wanted was to live a peaceful life, tending to my garden. But no. <br><br>Eriol had ruined my life. <br><br>I landed on the ground, comfortably. I had done this before, and the training had paid off. I looked around at my fellow volunteers. Some were injured, a few had broken bones or sprained ankles, but nothing too bad. We all knew what to expect in war. <br><br>We were a search and rescue team. We came in after the main battle was over, and helped round up the wounded and the dead. <br><br>I had been a teacher before the war, but sometimes I think I was better suited to this. I had an eye for injuries, and I knew how to fix things until the paramedics came. <br><br>That was how I had gotten a few years of medical training in so short of time. I had helped fix wounded soldiers when they were dropped off at the side of the battlefield, rushing to get them patched up enough to get to a real hospital. <br><br>I had learned enough to help get the wounded out of the battlefield. <br><br>I gathered my team. “Alright, we’re here to round up strays, stay sharp.” <br><br>The others nodded. We all knew what could happen. <br><br>I had seen the reports. The enemy were elves, and we were humans. <br><br>According to the theory, the humans were getting too close to winning the war. They had been slowly pushing us back, but we were in their territory now. We were tightening the noose around their capital. <br><br>The theory went that they needed help, and they didn’t know who to turn to. So they went to the only other place in the world that was neutral: the Red Cross. <br><br>The theory went that the elves had convinced the Red Cross to help them. <br><br>They had started kidnapping our best generals and soldiers, the ones holding high-ranking positions and winning battles. <br><br>The Red Cross would arrive in a city, bleeding in wounded from battles the enemy had already won. Then, they would come in and round up the wounded. But in reality, they were helping the enemy round up our soldiers. <br><br>Essentially, the Red Cross had been helping the enemy get rid of our best generals. That was the theory. <br><br>I didn’t know whether it was true or not, but I wouldn’t put it past them. <br><br>I walked out onto the battlefield, and I knew that the humans were winning. <br><br>There were far too many elven corpses for humans to have lost. <br><br>I walked through the field, looking for survivors. I didn’t see any elves, which made sense, since there was a massive bounty on their heads. <br><br>But that was when I saw him. <br><br>King Arin, the greatest hero the world had ever known. <br><br>He was laying on the ground, covered in blood and ash. <br><br>I ran to him, and I was there when he opened his eyes. <br><br>He blinked at me, confused. “W-where am I?” he asked, his voice faint and weak. <br><br>I curtained my eyes. I wanted to cry, to scream. I had been a teacher, and my favourite pupil had been a little prince named Arin. Even though he was a king, I still saw him as my prince. <br><br>I took him in my arms. “You’re home, Arin.” I said, my voice shaking. <br><br>He smiled faintly. “Are we winning?” <br><br>I nodded. “We are.” I said. <br><br>He smiled again. “Good.” he said. <br><br>That was when I heard it. <br><br>“Thank you, sir. We can take it from here.” <br><br>I lit my head to see a group of men in red cross vests taking Arin away. <br><br>I sighed. “Good luck, Arin.” <br><br>It was a long time before we finally won the war. <br><br>From that day on, the Red Cross was the enemy. <br><br>Arin was never seen again. <br><br>But I knew that he was still out there, fighting for what he believed in. <br><br>And I knew that I would too.