The city streets were flocked with the busy shouts of the loyalist troops and their allies preparing to defend the capital as it fell under siege by the rebel forces. Nathaniel walks up and down the main road in Helena, arming his men and any others in need of a sharp blade and plate. “Ingrid, Andrew, I love you both, I’ll see you both when the battle is won.” He kisses his wife, and pats his young son on the head, before running back to the square to keep preparing the men that arrived by the dozen.
“Nathaniel” says a voice from behind him, “Good to see your men made it, I was worried”. “Ser Rozmeo,” he says before extending a hand to him, which swiftly ends in a brotherly embrace. “We fight and die for Renatus. It’s been an honor to be by your side all these years”. The pair exchange salutes, and as he turns to leave, Nathaniel says “I’ll see you once we’ve won”, and walks back toward the palace.
The horns of war sound, and the bridge is raised, the gates shut. “Formations!” “Men at the ready!” “To the Palace!”. The Legions of Man take their places atop the palace gardens and upper levels, hundreds of troops are spread within the inner walls and along the battlements, all prepared to give the ultimate sacrifice for their home.
The battle ensues, and as the city is bombarded from the skies, the enemy advances though the city, the pounding of rebel boots is heard as they advance into the palace. “Hold together! We’ll take them together!”
As the bulk of the force continues to rain arrows on the advancing Orenian forces, Nathaniel makes his way into the stairwells to go and assist the few men below. At the bottom of the stairs, he is faced with three Haenseti soldiers, all in battle hardened and filled with rage. “I suppose you won’t let me pass through, aye?” Nathaniel chides to them. The men grunt, shields raised and forming up to attack together. “Fine - your way it is.” He drops his shield and unsheathes his second blade, the twin blades set to ignite when struck together. “For Renatus. For Helena. For Windsor!” He manages to catch the men by surprise with the sudden ignition of his blades, and fights hard to take down two of the three, before meeting his final enemy, Death, with a swift blade to the heart.
As the last of the rebels are struck down, Ser Aldis and a group of Legionnaires find Nathaniel’s lifeless body in a palace corridor. The group gives him a final salute, before carrying him off to the square with the others.
“They bled so that we might live. They bled Purple and Gold. Because of their sacrifice we live to fight on for our Imperium.”
[!] A Note is Found on Nathaniel’s body, written to his family and a few of his closest friends.
To Ingrid: My darling Ingrid, if you’re reading this then I won’t be there to hold you once the battle is won, but I hope you are able to forgive me for dedicating my whole life to our Empire. Protect Andrew, protect the baby, but above all try and find some happiness now without me. I love you, now, and always.
To Andrew: My beautiful boy, take care of your mother for me, I know the burden is heavy but the reward is sweet. Cherish your childhood, and live in righteousness and faith. I’ll see you when the road we walk on decides it’s time for our paths to cross again.
To Rozmeo: Thank you for the laughs, for being there for me during the highs and lows and for always doing what is best for everyone around us. I could not think of a more honorable man to have called by friend and brother.
To Aldis: Take care of my family, Big Head. You’re a great man and will be one of the best Knights our new Imperium will have the Honor of having in her service. In my absence, please continue to look after Ingrid and my children, and keep on the honorable path you’ve never stepped off of.
“Time is cruel - the never ending clock that rules our lives, a countdown to the dread of forgetting and being forgotten. Before long what is now will be passed and what’s to come will be now and friendships that once seemed to be forged for a lifetime will drop into the mighty ocean that is time - a faded memory of a different era, a distant dream of a passed lifetime.”
- Lord James IV Nathaniel Windsor, Duke of Windsor, Count of York,
Baron of Belfoire, Warwick and Ashenvale,
Lord Regent of Mortain and Loyal Son of Mardon and Renatus.