Serpentis Family/Erik Eyolf/The Last Parade
The situation in Avamar was still under control, but the poorest have crowded the Old District and tried to reach the gates of the Great Wall of Honor and Glory. For a moment the guards jostled, pushed by the crowd. When the batons became useless, one of the guards stunned the crowd with the metallic groaning, bringing his sword under the sun's hot light. Before the blood could be shed, the trumpets announced that the Duke of Avamar was leaving the temple. The Stormwalkers took the main square in formation while the guards were ordered to open the gates and let the mob enter. Behind the first wave, other local merchants and noble citizens sought a good place to watch the spectacle. Gradually many of them realized what was happening and where were tumults and shouting, son remained only a painful silence. Hunger became a problem too small in the face of that farewell.
Captain Andre wore the Captain Karl's old armor, a last gift from his commander. His veterans wore their best armors and black capes. Their shields were hung on the inner wall and would remain there for centuries to come. Military discipline made them immaculate statues, but it’s like to have a hammer castigating their hearts. No more battles. No more blood. Nevermore. Erik finally came down the stairs wearing his armor for the last time. The twin swords in his belt would be now just an ornament, a good memory of the killings and battles. Four priestesses came down behind him, bringing laurel crowns to give to the soldiers. Little more than twenty veterans, some of them already in time of retirement. They had fought more battles than any other soldier of Sirion, some since the fall of Captain Karl. They always had the best captains, equipment and the most arduous training, yet the greatest pleasure was to serve under the direct orders of the Silver Dragon, watching him lead the lines and participating in the infantry clash as a god among the men.
Erik Eyolf: “Stormwalkers!!! The best soldiers of Sirion, my war wolves! You fought with me in the defense of our lands, in the sand and blood of enemy lands! We destroyed entire realms and erected others from the ashes of those we defeated. We are the Warlords of Sirion! You will never be forgotten. The elite of our troops will be remembered forever in our songs, our legends and tales that will inspire the next hundred generations! In the darkest hours they will remember your swords and the oaths you swore to defend! You are the true heroes of Sirion!”
The soldiers shouted in unison and then were followed by passionate cries of the crowd. Erik had always been a military exponent. The great elf that entered in every city offering Triumphs to his soldiers and his people. He would be remembered as the greatest War Judge that Sirion has ever known, but were his military achievements and the glory he had won that would be nailed in the popular memory. The duelist, the great commander covered in blood, ashes and sand. They felt that life would not be so lively and full of glory in the future without him.
The people were surprised by the group of stoneworkers that approached the great wall. Erik had brought them from Evora to work with the old native group from Skezard. The night before they had completed the mausoleum where the last soldiers killed in battle would receive the burial rites. Now their job was to capture that moment and draw it on the stone to immortalize the heroes in their last glory. And then, if there was famine or any other problem in the city, it was behind closed doors while Erik distributed his own wine and beer. Remembering the days of the Sultanate’s fall and when he was crowned victorious as Sultan es-Selatin (Sultan of Sultans), the Duke of Avamar organized a great parade. The people were driven out of the inner walls while dancers and musicians urged the party. Exotic animals from conquered lands paraded with its tamers. The streets were soon covered with multicolored flowers like a carpet for the Stormwalkers in their last march.
The parade went through the city and returned to the temple. The crowd followed them. At the stairs, Erik hugged each of them and shook their hands as if they were old friends. These men had fought with him in countless battles. The Margrave could see tears in their eyes. Many certainly would prefer to die in battle than enter the history as live heroes.
Stormwalker: “Don’t do it, Sir. We can fight more battles! We can win another war!”
Erik Eyolf: “I’m sure you can. You’re the best soldiers of Sirion. But I can’t. My time is over. The old veterans will retire with me. The younger ones I will use to defend the temple or as my guards in foreign travels. You gave me the best years of my life. Now it’s time to rest a little...”
The Duke of Avamar smiled, but his chest was crushed by a merciless storm. Abandoning his swords and release the Stormwalkers from their oath: he had never thought about that fateful day.
