Choose life over death, Niko, when a choice can be made that puts no soul in jeopardy.
I don't want to be any closer to the gods than death will bring me.
No ethos, pursued without thought or mercy, is ethical.
Niko knew death like a sister - she was his true partner in the phenomenal world.
For Tempus...was a dozen storm gods' avatar; no army he sanctified could know defeat; no war he fought could not be won. Combat was life to him; he fought like the gods themselves.
I...keep trying to be perfect. For you. So you'll notice me.
Reasons never matter, once Death comes cold and bold and takes the living by the hand. You count up your dead, every one.
You're not one to take lightly, to love of for an evening and leave of a dawn.
If cities have souls, Sanctuary's was troubled long before Tempus got here, and will be troubled long after he and his are gone.
War's balance will prevail.
A wise one determines his own fate.
Order is its own reward.
What is needed is never to be had without price.
Bandara was not an easy place to return to: it could hide from the common worlds whose periphery it inhabited. But Bandara never had, in all its years, completely disappeared.
When the balance is restored, people get hurt.
Men are fools who forget what really matters while time goes by.
Shed your mortal skin and let me take you beneath the waves.
And what do the Theban hoplites see in this extended rending of the sky, this white-bright glory of Enlil's lightning? The future, but not theirs: paired cavalry fighters; formed ranks of armored death; grim men on their tall horses with lightning limning weapons tailored to the task; men spoiling for a fight if the gods allowed - the Sacred Band of Stepsons, out from shadows and the dark.
It's all right. Things as they once were will never be again, but it's all right.
Tempus would be protected, better shielded from whatever the Stepson thought threatening, if love could heal and save.
We know. We've seen it all before.
This is as 'alone' as I'm likely to get with you - you're not half so fetching as your daughter.
Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price.
Such hubris could only come from a man's mouth.
Sacred Bands and elite squadrons aren't what the mercenaries' guild is about. Field them at your peril.
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