I, Sabbas

[Legion XXI]

I swear my sword and shield to you,
I give my breath and soul.
I serve my Lord with my hands two,
Until the last bell tolls.
Ask not why we press on through,
Or what means you have employed.
Just know that He is watching you,
And charge into the void.

   His armor weighed heavily upon him.  His muscles ached and screamed for rest, the fighting pushing him to the very limits of what he believed he could accomplish.  He was not sure how long they had been fighting, was it minutes?  Or hours?  He was certain he could not go on for much longer, yet with each blow that was rained down upon him, his arms reacted.  His shield would catch the strike, his sword would counter.  But he'd lost focus for a moment and missed his mark again, and the entire world seemed to slow to a crawl as his instructor's wooden quarterstaff sped toward the side of his head.  Sabbas had just enough time to wonder how disappointed his father's face surely looked as the crash of wooden staff and steel helm blasted through his ears and his entire world went black.

He awoke in a field just west of Vallaki, to the familiar wash of Rhiddaur's healing magic taking hold on him.  He felt as if he'd woke from one dream of failure and into another.

"Ah, to be favored by the Gods."

He could hear the bitterness in his own voice.  The poorly concealed jealousy of the powers that Rhiddaur commanded.  He would have his day, this much was sure.  But today was not that day.  Today, he had been defeated, and found himself kneeling before the priest of Odin who now looked down upon him with what Sabbas knew was a mixture of pity and disdain.

"It was a misunderstanding"

Sabbas nodded, forced to accept and bend to the terms of the duel.  He was wrong.  He withdrew his accusations on the man and admitted his defeat.


   At times, he felt that his entire life had been kneeling to one power or another.  His Lord, his father, the knights he served, and now Rhiddaur.  But this was his fate, and he had accepted it.  The protector.  Kelazar, the Aegis of the Order.  Jealous as he was of Rhiddaur's more intimate connection with his Lord, Sabbas did not spend his already near-sleepless nights with prayers, preparations, incantations and prostrations.  No, he spent his time bearing the weight of his armor and the length of his blade in protection of his Holy Order.  He would win his Lord's favor and take his rightful place among the Knights.  He would do whatever it took to ensure the safety of his Brothers and Sisters.  If it was not his place to cast the divine magicks of his Lord, then so be it.  But he would not let the minions of darkness that stalk the land harm those among his Order who could.  For there is reward in loyal service, and Sabbas was nothing if not loyal.

Rhiddaur assured him that he had his Lord's blessing.  His protection and watchful gaze.  It was strangely reassuring after such a turn of events.  He knew there was still much to be done, however, and time was never in great supply.

Move with purpose and stay vigilant, fledgling knight.   Every evil you defeat only breeds another, and the world is watching.

[Legion XXI]

Place your trust in me, my friend,
You know I'll guide you true.
Swear your sword and shield to me,
And run the wicked through.
They crawl in shadow and in mud,
And speak our names in words so curt.
They watch for weakness in our blood,
They fear we'll make them hurt.

But such a conquest stands not here,
We know our faith is strong.
We feel not pain, nor hurt, nor fear,
Like legends of the song.
But no bard sings of us, my hand,
For heroes we are not.
We are but names inscribed in stone,
That hist'ry has forgot.

You'll be my eyes, my force of will,
You'll be my tongue and voice.
We'll hunt as wolves who chase the kill,
Our Lord, he will rejoice.
So take my hand and follow me,
I swear I'll guide you home.
But look not for familiar lands,
For our hell now, you roam.

An array of voices.  Quiet suggestion at first, and then blooming into a deafening symphony that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Who is he? How can he make that decision for me?"
"We agreed to this.  We swore to this."
"KILL HIM"
"It is not that easy"


Sometimes it was difficult to remember which one was his.


"KILL HIM"
"Who is he to take this from me?  Find your own!  This one is MINE."
"Sacrifice?!"
"Listen to yourself, is this what you are now?"
"Each of you a dagger, each of you committed."
"YOU SWORE AN OATH"



Sabbas continued down the mountain path, the cold air filling his lungs and burning his eyes.  His body felt weak, he realized he'd been tensed up the entire time.  So used to the rigors of traveling in armor, yet a few minutes with HER and he was useless.  What promise had they made?  How long was he now held captive to the words?  Would he ever truly be free?

"There is a way out, you know..."

His mind calmed as he approached the gates of the familiar grey city.  Though the people there did not trust him, and likely never would, it was a comforting sight.  Orderly.  It was nothing, if not orderly.  He wandered about that night in a daze, half looking for a fight, half looking for a drink.  Rest wouldn't come easy, every time he closed his eyes he would hear her voice.  She was watching, and his Lord was far away.  Was it fear or anger that caused his bitterness?  How had he allowed himself to question so much?

And of course, there was another.

"I had some questions, but I guess I wanted to ask them somewhere quieter..."

And he followed.  Each step heavier than the last, a smile plastered to his face like a raised shield to a hail of arrows.  He was afraid, but thankfully he was a natural deceiver just like his father.  People always said he had a nice look to him.  Maybe luck really does play a part in some things after all.

He could sense it in her.  The longing, the desire.  The familiar betrayal of the eyes reading aloud the mind's dreams.  Perhaps she has the strength to break free after all.  Release herself from that which binds her, he still wasn't certain.  But they spoke, and they spoke for a long time.  He told the truth as he always does.  Perhaps it would be enough, but only time would tell.  He didn't want to leave, but a wise commander knows when pushing an attack will lose the battle.  And in this battle, there was still much fighting to be done.


What a soul you have found yourself, Kontos.   They correct me when I call you Commander, but I know what you are.  It is a tired saying, my friend, but you and I are perhaps not so different after all.

[Legion XXI]

Reach forth a steel hand and grasp thy crown,
And bend all dissenters to your cause.
If they should cry out let their voices drown,
We'll cast them screaming into death's hungry jaws.

Who are the regal to deny me this?
This fate that I have long now sought.
All we will know tonight is victory's sweet kiss,
In the blood-soaked castle we have wrought.

I have dreamed of this moment many times before.  Now that it is finally approaching, I feel a strange sense of calm.  To see them kneel and speak the words genuinely is the sweetest sound I have heard in all my years.  To have them look to me as the Voice and as the Hand is a sense of pride, one I imagine that other fathers must have felt for their offspring.  It is a feeling of such power I cannot quite describe it, to hold someone else in your hands.  Like drinking of a strong alcohol, or being drawn into a powerful spell.

Rhiddaur once warned me against this.  He cautioned me that some things would spell the undoing of the Order - that actions were a ripple and we were a pond, all equally affected by the waves that pass along.  Perhaps he had more insight than I gave him credit for, though if anything, this message was not a warning for him...

No, it was a prophecy.

As the hour soon comes to see it through, I feel emboldened.  The Queen's oath of fealty was a surprise to me indeed, I did not foresee that tree bearing fruit so soon.  The Trusted Mask is another tale, much more predictable.  He and I are of a similar mind on most things, it was only fitting that he saw the rightness of my ways.  But the Queen was something different, something foreign.  She is not one of us, yet among us she has made her home.  Forsaking her past, she has knelt to me.  For this, I will make her a strong left hand.  And for his loyalty, the Mask will rise with me, always to my right.  Together, the three of us are a high watchtower in the center of a mighty citadel.  But even the mightiest citadel may only have one King as even the greatest warrior has but one head.


I promised to protect, and this is what I will do.  I swear this upon the steel burden that I bear.