What is honor to you?

Faust watched as the flames of the pyre burned the body of Dasius Phin, the corpse flaring as orange tongues of fire licked and consumed it. He watched the grisly scene, stomach lurching as he recalled the fight that had claimed the young legionnaire's life. Dasius had taken a hammer blow to the chest, the strike shattering ribs and puncturing lungs. Yet he held on long enough to warn Faust and save his life despite formerly hating the Centurion.

'Damned idiot.'

Faust gritted his teeth as the flames flared up again, the heat prickling at his face. He stayed where he stood regardless, his arms crossed as he watched the young man's corpse burn to ash. Despite his promise to him.

"Your grave will be covered in the finest of flower buds, with a chorus of beautiful women singing out your tale. Your name shall be immortalized in the form of these woodlands, as to preserve its beauty and history."

He had promised Dasius. Yet, Faust was forced to allow the men to burn the body, all because the boy had no family house and no relatives to pay the burden of holding his remains. Not even Faust could afford to pay to bring the body back to Arendton. Not when the trip was months long and treacherous. To go through all of that was considered a waste, according to the Legates. There would be no funeral for young Dasius. No honor for him.

"Faust," Silvano called.

The Centurion turned to the Legate, who stood nearby with folded arms. He had a worried look about him, his wrinkled face contorting as he frowned. Faust only stared, not a word coming out of him. How could he speak? What was there to say?

"I would prefer to be alone," Faust muttered finally, voice nearly drowned out by the crackling flames. Silvano sighed at that before he stepped up to the young Centurion. The Legate placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly.

"There was nothing you could've done, son," Silvano said softly.

Faust scowled. "I could've packed steel vials instead of glass. I could've returned to camp sooner had it not been for my ambition. My hubris did this, sir."

"Your hubris bought us precious time," Silvano said, his brow narrowed. "We now know of the traveling patrols near the Erden Forests. Using the information you brought us, we know to avoid their path. While it will take a little longer, our new course will still save us the trouble with those scouts. We can now march straight for Fort Garnet without interruption."

Faust gritted his teeth, breaking eye contact with the Legate. He rubbed at his eyes, another scowl appearing on his lips. He thought about Dasius, the kid's eyes going blank as his soul left this world. Why was he feeling somber about him? He had only known the soldier for a few months. Faust knew men for far longer and lost them at more critical battles.

Why did a simple man's life matter so much to him?

'He was never supposed to die. Your insistence to keep going got him killed. You are responsible.'

A voice deep inside rumbled these words to Faust, the truth of the matter gripping him like no other. The Centurion set his jaw at that, his hands balling into fists.

"Faust," Silvano spoke once more, catching his attention. "Steele yourself. There is much to come, much to conquer. Cyrus himself is coming to the frontlines to oversee our progress."

"What?" Faust asked, confusion settling in. "Cyrus is coming here?"

Silvano nodded. "He is set to arrive toward the beginning of Sommar. I am set on capturing that fortress for him before his arrival. Do you understand?"

Faust slowly nodded. There was no time to grieve for the dead man. No, he was here to conquer and take. To fight against the Lumen Kingdom and come out on top. He was here to make a difference. The fortress would be a turning point if they captured it. There was no doubt about it.

"Good man," Silvano patted Faust's shoulder. He turned to leave, but Faust grabbed his arm.

"Put me and my Century on the frontlines," Faust muttered, his gaze locking with the Legate. Silvano raised an eyebrow at that, lips growing thin as he visibly contemplated.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

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"Yes," Faust growled. "Let me fight them up front, like true men. Allow me to become the Legion's gladius, tip pointed at Lumen throats."

Silvano slowly nodded. "I shall consider it. Sleep on this, Desimir. Come to me tomorrow when your mind is fresh and clear."

The Legate pulled free and walked off, leaving Faust alone at the dwindling pyre.

"Honor is dead."

The fortress burned a bright orange, ash filling the sky as Faust watched it all collapse. He stared at his handiwork, horrific screams sounding out into the sky as ash fell around him. More Legion soldiers rushed past him, banners flapping in the wind as they all shouted their war cries.

It would be for naught, Faust knew. After the death of Leonard Kord, the Lumen front was broken and scattered. They did not last long against the force of Faust's Century and the reinforcements that had come from the nearby war camp.

'Honor died a long time ago,' he thought as he looked to the sky. Bands of light shone in contrast to the black clouds, an assortment of colors visible within them. Scrying from multiple sources. A sign that history was in the making. Faust grinned at the sight, his eyes closing as he felt Caelus' blessings run their course through his body. Wounds slowly healed, his breath coming out in puffs of steam.

"Faust?"

The Centurion blinked and forced himself to turn. Despite the regenerative powers granted to him, he was still heavily injured from his recent duel with the Lumen Knight. He blinked and wiped his eyes at the sight before him. A man clad in heavy ornamental armor stood there, eyes wide and mouth agape. Almost as if in horror. He stared at Faust, gold helm held tightly in his gauntleted hand.

"Emperor," Faust managed out. He went down on a knee, his head bowing as he caught his breath. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of a nearby corpse, eyes still staring at him. Despite the charge of his soldiers, none had dared trample the body of Leonard Kord. Faust almost wished they did. Maybe then, he'd be spared from the dead man's gaze.

"Faust," Cyrus muttered. Faust raised his head. The Emperor was watching the burning fortress, its flames now reaching a peak. "What have you done?"

"My job," Faust said. He spat blood onto the dirt, his breathing growing sharp with pain. "I killed their champion and took their fortress."

"So you burn it down?" Cyrus asked, voice wavering as he looked down at Faust. The Centurion blinked at the reaction his Emperor had. "What of the civilians within?"

"I told the men to kill those who resist and pillage what they could from the ashes," Faust said as he stood back up. He almost fell down from the sudden act. "As for the fortress, it needs to be burnt down. If only to prevent them from taking it back."

"You did what?" Cyrus said, his eyes locking onto Faust's. As their gazes met, the Centurion could swear those screams grew more pronounced. "You did what?"

"I did my job," Faust spat, legs stumbling as he stepped forth. He held his ground, standing on his choices. "I did what was needed."

Cyrus stared at him, expression darkening as he visibly clenched and unclenched his jaw. After a moment, he looked at the body of Leonard Kord. "You killed their champion. Their Lumen Knight."

"I was left with no choice," Faust said. He straightened himself, his hand clenching to his gladius tightly. Almost as if he was worried that it'd be taken away from him.

"There is always a choice," Cyrus muttered. He turned back to the Centurion, his darkened expression slowly dissipating. He visibly sagged, his body losing some of its poise as he looked Faust in the eye. "What has happened to you, Faust? How did you end up like this?"

"Like what?" Faust asked, almost venomously.

"Like an uncaged raptor, hungry for blood," Cyrus said. "I see it in your eyes now, that… thirst. What has happened to the man who pledged himself to our oaths? To his honor?"

"Honor is dead!" Faust shouted, forceful with his words. The image of a dying Dasius flashed in his mind. "Honor died years ago! Centuries even! It died when that cursed wishing shrine appeared and when that bastard of a man wished himself to become God! What honor is in that? What deities allow such a thing to exist?!"

The Centurion gestured to the burning fortress. "This? This is NOTHING compared to what will come in the next turn of the century. Do not lie to yourself, Cyrus. We all know the shrine will return then, enticing the greed of all men. Is that not why we strive to quell the Lumen Kingdom? So it does not get the chance to conquer all of Azurvale? To rule over all with an iron fist? I did us a favor by killing Leonard Kord! If I need to kill all those like him to ensure peace, then so be it! I serve the Legion and, therefore, its survival. To achieve that, we must ensure they do not get the chance to conquer us at all."

Cyrus stared at Faust, dumbfounded. There was a long silence between the two, the only sound being the distant crackling of flames and the shouts of men.

"I see," Cyrus said simply, eyes averted as he looked at the fortress one last time. He sighed softly. "Do what must be done, then. I will see you after this tour is finished, Desimir."

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving Faust alone on the bloodied field that stood before the flames of the destruction he had sparked. He turned to the sight, the heat blistering even from this distance. Like the pyre that had once burned the corpse of a dead Legionnaire.

For some reason, Faust forced himself to watch the carnage, his body tense as it stood for hours.

Dead or simply forgotten, Centurion?

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