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[Reeve]

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He looked up at the ramparts of Blackguard, his eyes thoughtful behind the visor of his helm. His back was to the Cathedral of Sanctus. How appropos. Slowly his head tilted down to stare at the beaten grass before the steps. Pieces of ceremonial armor, Sanctus gold cloaks and robes were littered there. With an offhand gesture he tossed the golden sash down as well.

To say that he had fond memories would imply that it was his place to judge those things which happened to him as personal. Nevertheless, he had met a precious few in this place worthy of his respect, and they still numbered among the living. Most of the denizens of this mockery of a kingdom were only play-actors and shared the same state. He knew better even before Sanctus called to him. He was called to this place by Virtue. That it was all a lesson and not a means was clear even from the beginning. Brotherhood is forged in deeds, not by men of rank or noble blood.

He looked up at the sky now, sorely tested in his resolve. His calling, his very reason for being, cast down in the mud and matted weeds of the drill yard.

Sometimes it felt like being alive to dally in self-pity. He smiled ever so slightly, hidden as it was within the helm. Then he allowed a soft chuckle. At least he had earned what he had worn. Bloodstains, scars and that sash.

Virtue is its own road and no one may dictate where it leads.

He rode away quietly.