β’ 8/16/20 2:16 pm
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The Valiant Folorn, a man who wanted to die, but couldn't do so.
Serf in his condition so thin from his past, he escaped, betraying his people. Death, armed with dogs and swords on the trail, he had to become a fighter, play with blood, killing was imposed on him. But he could not become a knight despite his valor. This success was impossible for him, because of the abandonment of his lord, of his Land. Moreover, this so noble status of knight was an ideal that would never present itself because no one served him, he refused to enslave anyone. This valiant man, abandoned to himself, realized that he represented nothing, that he was not a knight, not a peasant, he was nobody. So it was Glory's turn to run away from this poor man. Rich of these miseres, the vast kingdom of death was still the only one willing to welcome him. Calling him each night, and challenging him each fight. The concept of life didn't seem to be meaningful to him anymore.
However, despite this irresistible appeal towards which all his forces were violently pushing him, a duty kept him alive. The duty to serve something greater and the fear of failing to do so. This fear was that of not being able to meet, to serve and to protect the one who would love him. That untouchable power guided him at the risk of his life. Leave this sweetheart's soul alone, he couldn't. If he did not fight for himself, he would fight to her.
Serf in his condition so thin from his past, he escaped, betraying his people. Death, armed with dogs and swords on the trail, he had to become a fighter, play with blood, killing was imposed on him. But he could not become a knight despite his valor. This success was impossible for him, because of the abandonment of his lord, of his Land. Moreover, this so noble status of knight was an ideal that would never present itself because no one served him, he refused to enslave anyone. This valiant man, abandoned to himself, realized that he represented nothing, that he was not a knight, not a peasant, he was nobody. So it was Glory's turn to run away from this poor man. Rich of these miseres, the vast kingdom of death was still the only one willing to welcome him. Calling him each night, and challenging him each fight. The concept of life didn't seem to be meaningful to him anymore.
However, despite this irresistible appeal towards which all his forces were violently pushing him, a duty kept him alive. The duty to serve something greater and the fear of failing to do so. This fear was that of not being able to meet, to serve and to protect the one who would love him. That untouchable power guided him at the risk of his life. Leave this sweetheart's soul alone, he couldn't. If he did not fight for himself, he would fight to her.
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