We find ourselves in a dungeon, clad in shadow. From the flickering torches, we see the shape of a man sitting on a throne. A voice comes out, hoarse. Ancient.
“Gold. Wealth. Power. All these things men strive for in life. But in the end, this isn’t what defines them. No amount of wealth or power can hold a torch to the one thing all leave behind: legacy.”
We see a shift in the seat, a thin and gaunt frame shifting with light gleaming off of a metal crown
“For every accolade, for every feat that one could earn, all can be washed away by the sands of time and your legacy. Your greatest achievements, your failures. It can be humorous what some remember of you. More often than not however, it is the actions one takes that defines one’s legacy.”
There is an inhale of raspy lungs, but the voice remains oddly cool and even toned.
“One could be forgiven at your legacy to think it was over before it had begun. With that gold around your neck, you established the name of Gable as a champion among others before your footfalls even reached the halls here. And yet your legacy continued, for standing for the greater good. You faced monsters in human skin and those behind masks of violence. Anything that could come, would fall.”
“Each time it took more from you. Embittered you. Warped you past the point of redemption You donned the mantle of Sir Gable, and not long after came your end. A man who’s legacy dragged him to his doom, from hero to a villain most would not recognize.”
“For one must make a choice: either die a hero, or live long enough to become a villain.”
The eyes glint from the darkness, two pitches of a fire that burns ever lasting.
“Heavy is the weight that the people throw onto their heroes. For some it can be too much to bear, but for others it becomes their purpose. They harden under the pressure, changing from what they were before into something more.”
“I too bore the weight of gold, but not around my neck. I was graced with the weight of a kingdom, a world to defend. People to care for. And I gave everything to that duty, sacrificing those closest to me. Reaching for more. Become something more.”
The face leans forward out from the shadow, desiccated flesh barely clinging onto the skull of the Lich King.
“I have embraced what I have become. It fuels my life, the legacy that would crush others beneath it. In my end I have found a new way, something horrible and wonderful. For while a mere knight may crumble apart underneath the pressure, a king must hold his own. This is why the knight always bows to a king.”
The torch light of the dungeon flashes out, leaving only the burning pits that glow with a hatred unbound by mortal life.
“Now be a good knight, and obey.”