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	[hider=Dream Sequence (Not required reading)][i]Theobald's boots sunk into the ground beneath his feet, the ground muddy from the rain that overtook the landscape, puddles pooled in the deformations made from explosives and tank treads. The bodies of men lay face down in the dirt, as numerous as the raindrops, their blood mixing with the water and feeding the earth with their lives. He looked up at the skies, dark with thunderclouds and smoke and chemtrails, the flash of lightning accompanied by the frequent flashes of muzzle fire that came from aerial combat.

	It was the familiar sight of the Kaudus-Rodion warfront. [b]His[/b] warfront.

	"Lieutenant!" The voice of his sergeant came quick, barely audible over the scream of gunfire as the man wadded through mud and people to reach his commanding officer. Brought back to reality, Theobald was reminded of the current situation, decapitating the enemy soldier who clung to his leg and removing the knife that had sunk into his thigh during his moment of absent thought. Reaching for a fallen comrade, he lifted the wounded ally onto his shoulder, carrying them like a sack of potatoes as he turned toward what was left of his battalion. 

	[color=firebrick]"Ja, Herrman,"[/color] the leading soldier acknowledged his advisor, ejecting the spent mana batteries in his weapon and reloading it as he addressed the visibly frantic younger man. [color=firebrick]"How is the eastern side? With your arrival, I assume it has been stabilized?"[/color]

	"Sir, you must retreat!" The man yelled instead, his veins bulging from his neck from the exertion it took from crossing half the warfront to reach the commanding officer. "Those Kaudian bastards took the flank! We've been had! You must escape before they-"

	Cutting himself off, the sergeant rose his head to the air just as Theobald had, both becoming aware of the dreadful whistle of ordinance flying through the air and catching sight of the three mortal shells directed at their position. While the lieutenant rose his weapon and discharged rounds into the skies to prematurely detonate one of the shells mid-descent in a ball of sparks and fire, the others were near impact just as the soldier beside him finished his chant. "-et dominum meum incolumem!"

	The mortar exploded against the barrier erected before the duo, their vision enveloped in smoke as the sergeant panted from exertion, the sounds of approaching warcries reaching their ears before the enemy became visible. Cresting the ridge, the next wave of Kaudian soldiers approached, their eyes full of triumph and bloodlust as victory filled their sight. Theobald looked back at his men, cut down in number and weary from battle. Against an enemy full of morale, there was no way his men would survive the next engagement.

	Despite himself, the bulky man cracked a smile, the rapid beating of his heart filling his ears and the blood leaking from his wounds warmer than the cold rain. The goddess was a cruel woman, to give him such a trial when he still had men at his back. Handing his injured charge to the sergeant, the lieutenant's stern expression hid the manic excitement that threatened to bubble over as he headed towards certain death. [color=firebrick]"Take them and go, sergeant. I will hold them off."[/color]

	"Sir! There's too many of them!" Barely able to sling the wounded soldier's arm over his shoulder for support, the mage yelled at his commanding officer who seemed hellbent on suicide. Yet, realizing the large man's determination, started dragging the injured away as he yelled for help from the other soldiers of the battalion.

	Was this not what he wanted most of all? A thought that plagued his mind as he stared down the men charging down the ridge, armed to the teeth and ready to skewer him like a fish while others readied their guns at the crest to fire at his retreating men. 

	A story that could be spread far and wide, of a hero who fought back an unbeatable legion with but his sword and body alone? The first sword that reached him was batted away, the user cut down as the second and third took their place, with four others taking theirs, and eight soon after, with sixteen more on the way. It was an unending swarm, his body covered in red as both his and the enemy's blood spilt across the earth. But even the greatest soldier could not fight hundreds as one man, and his neck was soon cut across the artery by a floundering sword. A lucky blow among dozens seeking to take his life.

	But as his life slipped from his fingers, the fire in his heart surged outwards, the pain unbearable as it threatened to swallow him whole. As he opened his mouth to scream, the flames spilled from his open maw, and his vision was filled with rivers of fire.

	And everything burned.[/i][/hider]
	Theobald awoke with a cold sweat, his eyes bloodshot as he rose to attention just as the first rays of light streamed through a window. His hand shot up to his throat, where the invisible mark of the goddess' favor lay branded on his body. With a sigh, he rose to his feet, the clock by his bedside reading oh-five-hundred as he checked a small notebook by his bedside. 

	The Millenial Ceremony was scheduled that day, a ceremony that he had no choice but to attend yet had no reason to avoid. It was a change in the monotony of church life, after all, and a potential chance to change the course of his life. He scored it off the page, noting down the other necessary events of that day onto the paper before filing it neatly in his pocket.

	After dealing with his general hygiene, he gently thumbed through what little varieties of clothing he owned in the luxurious dresser the church offered him, picking out the finest of his military uniforms among the many that filled his meager selection. Within a cabinet, he removed a leather box that had been carefully maintained, revealing the decorated medals laid inside. Polishing off each one, he snapped them into place across the front of his uniform, adjusting each so that they lay perfectly across the polyester. 

	As he went through his preparations for the ceremony, he stopped as he passed by a weapon displayed in his room, whose metal blade gleamed in the sunlight and was held aloft like a trophy upon a wooden plaque. It was something he used quite frequently, a partner who he maintained his skill with each day in preparation for the day he could bring it out into the world once more. 

	After a moment's hesitation, he took the gunblade off the plaque, sheathed and strapped to his side as the clock neared the ceremony time. He needed to make an impression, after all, and a soldier without his weapon was but a civilian in costume.[hr]
	The ceremony itself was formal, as expected, the air somewhat tense from the events that had preceded and brought about the ceremony in the first place as the Estoran prince and his Templar continued to speak privately on stage. He had not known the Scion of Time, barely in parting and only learning of the man through the peace talks between him and Kaudus, and felt only indifference when it came to the internal struggles aired out by the people's feelings on the Templar of Time. 

	If he was truly at fault with the previous Scion's demise, they would have discharged him immediately. The fact that he isn't means that it was the fault of the commanding officer, something that the former lieutenant thought could be seen a mile away from the moment he thought that the Kaudian Empire could be dealt with amicably.

	Unbidden, his gaze drifted to the woman by his side, unintentionally meeting her gaze. It was a sick joke that a child of his previous enemies had become his warden, but there hadn't been much he could do about it in the grand scheme of things. By the time he'd come to his senses after being ferried to the church, the choice had been made long after he had the chance to refuse it. Though she annoyed him on a personal level, and even more so under the command of the church, it wasn't to the level that he would break formality before the royalty of the state.

	And before, of course, the man he wished to speak with. As soon as he was able, the ceremony concluded and the participants allowed to socialize, he approached his target as swiftly as he could without seeming rushed. His large stature towered over many of the other attendees, and many gave him a wide berth as he single-mindedly attempted to meet with the leader of the Templars.

	Commander Fyodor. A man who needed no introduction, at least in Theobald's eyes. He waited patiently until the Commander was prepared to acknowledge him, and snapped into a formal salute when the older man turned towards him. [color=firebrick]"Commander Fyodor. Lieutenant Colonel Theobald Gaumand, leader of the 5th battalion of the 2nd Assault Army. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."[/color]

	If it were him of twenty-eight years ago, perhaps that child-like him would've jumped for joy meeting the man who led him to his dream, the hero of the battlefield that garnered victory wherever he went. But it was not a child who met the Commander, but a soldier, and so he maintained his salute until the commanding officer on field would let him ease himself.

	What he wanted required his childhood hero's commendation and approval, he would not allow himself to breach formality unless the man before him allowed it. 

	No matter how much he wished to grab his notebook and ask for an autograph.