Once I was a soldier in service to the foul whore who we all had to call a queen. But from the beginning. All stories start at birth, after all...

I was born as the fourth son in a peasant family. My father was a farmer, and my mother was a needlewoman. To be honest, I barely knew them. From my earliest days, I knew that I was born to become a soldier. My father always reminded me about that, but soon I realised he was speaking more to my mother than to me. I was fed just enough to survive and worked every day till I passed out from exhaustion. But the same did my siblings and father. We were poor and we all worked all day long. I envied my siblings the love and affection they received. Back then, I didn't understand why my parents never hugged me to sleep or told one of the stories they told to my older brothers. The days and years faded in my memories into a blur of silent tears and feeling that I wasn't loved by anyone, even by my own parents. But that wasn't bad compared to what came next.

When I was ten years old, I was taken by the army. Without a word of explanation, my days were filled with drills, awful food and beatings I received from my superiors for the tiniest mistake I made. The food was especially horrible. Many recruits were sick after eating it before they got used to it. I was spared that by coincidence; however, like others, I sometimes refused to eat the unrecognisable sludge that was supposed to be a soup. We were beaten for not eating. We were beaten for being too slow or too sick. The only salvation we had was to listen to the orders. Then they just yelled at us when they decided we fulfilled them too slowly. So I learned quickly to fulfil any order without question or hesitation. The boys in my unit became my only friends. We fought, bled and killed... I killed the first time when I was eleven years old.

To this day, I remember the face of the man I killed. The sergeant told me that the man was a murderer, but somehow I knew he was innocent... The punishment for not fulfilling that order was so severe that I dared not to disobey. Through the next years, I and others like me were drilled in combat. We killed on order and slept at order. It mattered not for us if we killed monsters or the people, an order was an order. I even remember we were ordered to catch young peasant girls for our commanders, and we never asked why. We rarely saw them later on, but it was easier to follow the orders than to question them. We were ordered to track down runaway slaves and bring them back to their owners. We even had to turn a blind eye when the slavers started catching random people. We hated such orders, but we obeyed them seeing executions of those who refused. We often have to kill our own friends who rebelled against such atrocious orders with our own hands. It was back then when I noticed that ordinary people despised us; they hated and feared us. So we responded in kind and we despised them. We, soldiers, had only each other.

When I was fifteen, I was deployed to Fort Crissna. Everyone knew it was the most dangerous outpost in the entire Kingdom but I did what I always done. I followed the orders. It turned out to be the best thing that happened in my life. My new commander was a man with a big heart. He was like a father to me, to us all; all his soldiers were precious to him, and finally, we felt like people once more. While I was serving under him, I understood why my parents never hugged me. Well, he explained that to us. Thanks to him, I understood why my mother often cried. My parents knew that the Queen demanded soldiers from most of the families of the kingdom. If my mother could hug me, she couldn't just give me away. Since that day, I often prayed for my parents and myself. But what god I could pray to if they have chosen someone like Josla? So I, like others, chose to pray to the heavens. We prayed for the better days to come.

We committed many heinous acts, but now, serving under Major Ban, we know how low we have fallen. However, he never let us succumb to the darkness, he always had our backs. The atrocious and unreasonable orders from the queen or the king never ceased. The things I had to do haunt me to this day. I still remember my shock and horror when we were ordered to execute the entire village. The only crime those people committed was that they defended their children from slavers and killed four of them. At first, Major Ban refused, pretending he didn't have enough soldiers because the nearby Dungeon's minions were spotted in the forests. It was a lie but no one questioned it, they didn't cared at all. The queen said that we were going to fulfil that order or would die as rebels alongside that village. The Major wanted to argue, but the captain, a noble's bastard son, took his company and wiped out that village. I was one of those who killed the men who fought back. I saw the slavers capture women and children. The Major was furious, but we were spared his wrath. The Captain was blamed, however, the Major could only yell at the man, who smirked defiantly. For years we carried our sins and burdens of the cursed life of being a soldier. Some died in skirmishes and battles while others killed themselves, crushed by the guilt. If not for the Major, many more would choose suicide than live a life worse than that of a bandit.

Then we were ordered to subjugate a newborn Dungeon. The Righteous Dungeon. Order as unreasonable as many others before. Even the young Dungeons were extremely dangerous. However, it wouldn't be the first one. The Cridian army managed to subjugate a few Dungeons already, so...

Dungeons might frighten the civilians, but what could frighten us? We were dead before we were even born. No one from my friends and newfound brothers had a family they could return to. No one started a family of their own. What for? To give a pointless life to another boy so he could replace us? Even our veterans had nowhere to go so they stayed, helping around the fortress till they died. Major Ban gave us a home and family. We were going to follow him till the end. When we couldn't get enough food, he managed to obtain the farming equipment and our old-timers started farms in the empty lands surrounding the fort. At first, it was hard, but with time, everything turned out fine. We repaired and maintained our own equipment. Our biggest problem was the constant lack of clothing materials to fix our gambesons. We rarely obtained it as if it was some kind of reward from the capital. Our other source of supplies was various bandit bands in the area. Some older guys know one or two things about smithing so they helped with our rusted swords and spears' tips. However, such weapons were precious and we used them extremely rarely. We mostly needed the clubs or maces anyway, which were easy to make from the wood, and the surrounding forests could provide us with a limitless supply of them.

But I digress...

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We marched out into the snow and moved swiftly. According to the Major, the forces from the nearby city, Girsion, were supposed to aid us. On our way to the meeting point, the ambush caught us completely off guard and almost ended my life. The host of enemy soldiers was a frightening sight to behold. They came from nowhere and sported the banners we had never seen before. The enemy wave of arrows was unexpected and hard to detect in the ambient sounds of the forest we passed. After the arrows, the spells crashed upon our ranks and from between the trees, came the living wall of steel and death. The violence and speed of our enemies seemed to paralyse our officers. Before the orders reached us, we already lost a few hundred, if not over a thousand, soldiers. Once we clashed with the assailants, we realised the differences between them and us. Our gear was tattered and rusted while theirs was shining and new. Their skills and training were much different than ours: we could fight them individually and, with a great deal of effort, we could even win. But as a unit, we were inferior. We couldn't match them. Before we knew it, we were defeated. But then, the slaughter stopped, and after a nervous few moments that felt like an eternity, our Major ordered surrender.

We were taken prisoners and travelled for a few days and nights, without a stop, in dark, but comfortable wagons. To our surprise, we were fed, and the food was so good that I suspected riots if they suddenly decided to set us free. The wagons were also warm and had a secluded space to relieve ourselves which very surprised us. One day, we arrived in the city like no one I had ever seen before. Its defensive walls were grand, beautiful and unbelievable. It was filled with clean air and wonders around every corner. There, we were welcomed by The King. His mere presence and authority were enough to bend our knees. A single glance was enough for our trained eyes to see that man was someone great. We expected to be ridiculed and laughed at. We expected to be enslaved or killed. With my own eyes, I saw the resignation on the faces of my brothers.

However, we were wrong.

To our shock, Major Ban, a paragon of all virtues and honour, betrayed Josla Cridia, seemingly without a second thought. He pledged himself to that man and so did we. If the wise commander acknowledged King Theon, we would follow the Major to the bitter end. To our astonishment, our pledges were listened to. Our sins were forgiven as long as we abide by the laws of Avalon. Whatever we had done was going to be buried in history. We were crushed by the power of gaesa and vows we had to take, but to our surprise, they were fair. Much fairer than the twisted parody of law forced by Josla Cridia and the corrupted nobles who served her so eagerly. When we stood up we were no longer Cridian Soldiers. We were the Guardsmen of Avalon. We were servants of a Dungeon...

Our training started anew.

We learnt new tactics and obtained weapons and armours unimaginable before. I, like everyone in my company, obtained a halberd, sword, shield, bow, cape, chainmail, armoured gloves, alongside matching boots and cuirass. Those items were many times more expensive than the best sets of armour we saw on the nobles. With a strange feeling, we wore spotless black and silver armours with Avalon's coat of arms. We learnt how to maintain them and use them to their full potential. They were grafted with many runes which granted enhancements and protection akin to full mages' support as well as healing. We learnt not only how to fight but, most importantly, how to help the people of the Kingdom of Avalon. We obtained new classes, much more powerful than the generic classes almost everyone had. We fought the denizens of the Dungeon and gained levels with a frightening speed. Between the lessons and fighting the Dungeon's monsters, we were deployed many times to fight cursed slavers and rescue the people they abducted. I found a great deal of joy in killing those monsters who were worse than us, the soldiers.

I hadn't noticed that at the beginning, but the people of Avalon were not looking at me with disgust. They thanked me and happily waved at us when we marched through the city. Not only me, but all the soldiers noticed that as well. We no longer avoided the eye contact with ordinary people. The more slaves we freed, the more happy the people were. We all discovered an unknown feeling that swelled our chests. Eventually, in our astonishment, we found a name for that feeling. It was pride. We felt great seeing the smiles of the civilians. We felt accomplished and satisfied learning that we managed to reunite the families split by the cruelty and whims of slavers or Berna's nobles. But the true breaking point was when the kids pointed at us with awe, telling their parents that they wanted to be like us when they grew up. That frightened us... To be like us? They wanted to be soldiers? Then, the realisation came. We were no longer murderers and scums in service of a whore who thought she was a queen. We were no longer the Cridian Army.

We were the Guardsmen of Avalon.

Somewhere between the blessed walls of Avalon, where merciful Gods walked among the Mortals, we were born again. We pursued the true criminals and helped those in need. We used our strength and years of experience to finally do what we always wanted; we protected the people. Each order we received had a meaning and purpose. While the Immortal Legions of Avalon were the King's sword, we were his shield. We protected the cities and towns, we patrolled the previously wild tracts and long-forgotten roads. We brought law and peace into every corner of the Kingdom of Avalon. No evil could creep its way behind our lines. It took us some time to realise that we never truly served the Kingdom of Cridia. We, and the Major, now Lord General Ban, couldn't betray Queen Josla Cridia because we were just her tools, just another kind of slave. The fear that held us obedient was completely shattered and we understood that we never served her. Our vows and pledges were hollow, meaningless words spoken by the terrified children. But we weren't scared children and broken men anymore.

Now, we served the mighty and benevolent King, and wise and beautiful Queens. The Gods who allied themselves with Avalon, listened to us and granted us their blessings. We learnt how to fight and live. We learnt how to be people once again, to never let unnecessary cruelty stain the Coat of Arms of Avalon we all wore on our chests. However, our hearts turned as cold as the steel in our hands every time we met any enemy of Avalon. It was our home and we were soldiers protecting it. We learnt how to be merciful but we weren't naive. We put our hearts and souls to master our weapons and skills, we trained alongside Legions in their underground facilities, sparing no sweat or even blood to be perfect soldiers in service to the King Theon Avalon. And one blessed day we were acknowledged. Since that day, we stood proud and unshaken in our commitment to lay our lives in service to King Theon Avalon. We no longer served Lord General Ban. We served our King. He gave us back our dignity. He gave us purpose and pride. He gave us home and hope. In return, we decided to give everything to him. His will was absolute. His every order fulfilled quickly and without fail.

If he only wished, we would knock to the gates of hell to spit the devil into the eye.

I'm a soldier of King Theon Avalon.

I am the Guardsman.