Has it been so long since I was the master of my own fate?

Have I forgetten how to make my own decisions?

Has the glory of Coryan and the might of her Legions subsumed my own will?

Or am I just the man, that was the boy, so long ago in Toranesta?

Would my mother recognize me? Or my sisters?

Here I am, twenty years gone since I was the boy, so full of hope, hope for the glory of Coryan.

What have I gained? What have I lost? I have sword and shield and the will to use them. I have scars to attest to my campaigns. I have gained friends and lost them to the ravages of war. I have barely a knowledge of my family.

Have I secured another generation for Coryan? Will the example of the rebel provinces prove too much? Will the Empire reclaim her rightful lordship over those who would tear down the true hope of mankind?

I know that I felt the warmth of Illiir on my back these last couple years. I feel called to him. I feel compelled to seek out his embracing glory, and to carry it to his wayward sons.

Am I worthy of this task? Am I enough to do this task? Do I actually understand the task Illiir has laid before me?

All of these questions that I have already. I am barely three days gone from having been paid out and discharged from the Legion. What was it that Quintus Vorenus said as I packed my gear on that final day? “A man may leave the Legion, but the Legion never leaves the man.” I wondered what he meant then. I felt gloriously free of the Legions, but now. Now I find myself marching, when there are no others to march by my side. I find myself humming that tune we used to chant as we readied to recieve the charge of the Hinterland barbarians. My hands ache with the urge to draw forth my gladius and punish the enemies of the emperor. Indeed, I have abandoned the Legions, but they are still in my heart.

The merchant this morning said that the Patricarch was to speak in Boskowitz, a city of the Milandisian rebels. I can’t say as I know exactly where it is, but I intend to go there. surely he intends to rebuke the rebellious flock, and put forth a call to put them back on the path of the righteous. The Emperor is Illiir’s chosen leader of man, and yet somehow the Milandisian rebels have managed to defy his righteous authority. The strength of arms has not returned them to the fold of civilization, so the Emperor must have consulted with the Patriarch, and a spiritual solution has been arranged. Woe unto those who do not heed the Patriarch’s message, for I portend that the ill favors of The Defender of Civilization will be evidenced, should the locals not give up their heretical and rebellious ways and return to the caring embrace of the Empire.

And thus, I will travel to this Boskowitz, and if called upon by The Wrath of Heaven, I will perform what duties he has need of me.