They are here.

Hmpf, later than I expected.

Opening the door and kneeling with his head down, an acolyte informed me, "They are here."

"Why have you barged into my private quarters without knocking first?" I asked.

"I apologize. I felt it was urgent to deliver the news," without even the slightest hint of anxiety, he spoke.

He truly believed to have a just reason.

I drew forward, crouched down opposite him, and spoke into his ears, "but that does not allow you to break basic etiquette, does it?"

"Of course not, never. I will do better next time," he promised.

I was not mad. Why would I be? I was slighted; I gave an admonishment, and then in return was given an apology and a promise.

The world should have operated in this manner, but it didn't.

The world was ugly, harsh, and perpetually unfaithful. Things never worked out in the way 'mortal' people wanted them to. Reality bends on the whims of the corrupt and evil.

Some would even call me that. They try to label me as evil, though I consider myself to be virtuous and high-minded.

"After today, I doubt there will be a subsequent invasion, and these 'invaders' won't matter. But it's wonderful that they at least make an effort. It's so admirable when the ignorant attempt righteous action, is it not?"

The acolyte nodded silently.

"Let them get to the main hall. Do not stop them until they are here," I commanded, and the acolyte melded into the shadows and disappeared.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I was alone and exhilarated. Nothing, unequivocally nothing, will be more joyous than today, for there shall be no tomorrow.

When I considered it, I wanted to sing and dance. Nothing could have brought me down today.

"Because of this little thing..." I pulled on the chain that hung around my neck.

It was tiny, or rather, smaller than one may have anticipated. And old-- though it would be difficult to determine how old, given that it was in no way tarnished and gleamed a brilliant gold.

It featured 'her' face.

Yet, my attempts to scratch it out were unsuccessful. Damaging the strange metal it was made of seemed impossible. Neither my attempts nor the attempts of the children succeeded in harming it.

I hated it; I hated what is symbolized; I hated that people venerated a piece of metal so highly, even more than they would value the lives of others, and most of all detested her.

That is why I was leading the children.

In all honesty, I lead them because I was chosen.

I was the child Urien had picked out of all the others, and I wasn't going to let either him or them down.

Alone in my room, I fell to my knees in quiet prayer, "Oh, my god, my god. There is no one holy like my Lord, there is no one besides you that I worship, there is no rock like you, my god. You will guard the feet of your faithful servants, but the wicked will be silenced in the place of darkness before you. Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.

My god, if you hear me now then send me a sign, I beg of you, grant me your blessing. Send me the bird Kavir, your paragon of death, so that he may guide me, for there are many in the way of my success who would see my demise and your own! They all want us to vanish, to be rejected and cast aside like the trash they see us to be. Lay waste to these heretics and dissidents.

Guide my hand and I swear to you that you will witness their demise, their end, and the passing into that of a more tender world."

In the moments of inspiration, I forgot about my humble self and where I was in this horrible existence on this hellish plane as I chanted, prayed, and sang praises.

Time was a foreign concept to me at this moment, but a knock forced me back into the shambles one would call a body.

I said, "Come in," and then a different acolyte entered through the thick iron door.

The children were always learning and adapting. If I scold one, then the next will always try to outshine the last.

"What is it?" I asked.

They always insisted on kneeling first and never wanted to look at my face; always facing the ground instead of me. Sometimes that made me uncomfortable, and proper manners dictate that you looked the person you're speaking to in the eyes.

"My lord, we have them," he informed me.

"Good work, my child," I said as I extended my hand to stroke his shoulder, “but do not call me lord. I am just a speck, my child. I am much less important than you and your brothers and sisters are.”