Generosity is never out of season.
It was his soul's freedom that was in question. And that question was whether freedom was worth the price when it meant shirking the responsibilities of honor.
I survive. I survived it all then and I'll survive the rest of it. Without your help.
What we hold sacred is honor, justice, and glory. You need not swear allegiance to our storm god, to serve with us. Fighters are among us from many lands, with many gods and many beliefs. Believe as you will. What is between a man and his god is theirs alone to say.
What would the world be without him, and those like him?
What is needed is never to be had without price.
Order is its own reward.
Some nights, valor and cold purpose aren't enough.
Stop grieving. Start giving thanks to me. You live to fight on other days.
Men may not believe you, my son. But you must always say the truth, when the truth holds no danger for you or your loved ones.
Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price.
Sometimes the cost of winning for all the right reasons is so great that spirits die and hearts grow cold.
Valor was in Nikodemos, unquestionable, and commitment like trees to stand or night to fall.
You count up your dead, every one. Always. Recall them, each and all - every face, every heart.
Proof of war, when it comes, always comes too late.
You're not one to take lightly, to love of for an evening and leave of a dawn.
When the balance is restored, people get hurt.
Reasons never matter, once Death comes cold and bold and takes the living by the hand. You count up your dead, every one.
Men are fools who forget what really matters while time goes by.
Die never for a god, Nikodemos who should know better - not your soldiers' god, nor any other.
Shed your mortal skin and let me take you beneath the waves.
Something awful is always going to happen, Arton. It's Sanctuary. You're a Stepson. Awful is a big part of your job.
Don't forget, Riddler, how I love thee. Or all we shared together. Or that this sea and all other seas can lead you back to me.
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.
Honorable battle sustains a Sacred Band.
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