Chivalry is Dead

I swore allegiance to a King most high. A man of strength and goodness and integrity. I brought my sword and my shield and my spear to bear against his enemies whenever his trumpet bellowed and his army marched to war. I did all this, and did it gladly. The reward for my fidelity was violence, chaos, and disorder. It is said that Artorious’ realm was the “flower of Chivalry”. But here, in this Godless place, Chivalry is dead. Here there is only endless bloodshed and havoc, where the dead roll over and relive boundless tragedy with no hope of release to a better hereafter. There is no divine justice or reaping of the wicked. There is only what retribution we can wreak upon those who dare to wrong us. The Varangians, for all their faults, understand this, and seek power above all else. Their support has enabled me to divine the movements of the betrayer, Myrddin, and to reach what I believe to be the source of his terrible arsenal. Here in this place, I may finally obtain the power to preserve what remains of my people, and to annihilate those who would threaten our peace, be they from within or without. Only then, when the angry edge of the headsman’s axe hangs by a thread above all who remain, will we finally know an end to conflict.