I heave a tired sigh, sitting in my tattered tent. Just looking around at my meager possessions - my battered armour, my chipped sword, my dented shield - is enough to make even my shoulders tremble with fatigue. I look up at the sky through the holes in the roof of my tent. The moon has just begun its descent over the horizon, and small flecks of sunlight appear far in the east.

Five years; the rising of the sun will mark the fifth year I have been thrown onto the front lines of the Eternal Battle - or truly, since I threw myself onto the front lines. The years have not been kind to me, leaving my mind and body heavily scarred from the almost nonstop fighting just beyond Elysium's walls, though the last few weeks have honestly been the worst after I finally managed to defeat the demon's assault commander, Yngoth.

I haven't eaten anything in days, my wounds are infected, and I'm generally exhausted. But my crusade against the demons assaulting Elysium have been completely successful. Where others paladins have failed, I have endured and overcome the challenges these demons send at us, though it has gained me a fearsome reputation as a murderous maniac. Hell, my own brothers and sisters in arm fear me just as much as the Demon Lords arrayed against the Heavenly City, calling me mad, deluded, and a few are even bold enough to label me a heretic. I would be angered by such things if they weren't possibly true.

"What I wouldn't give for some damn sleep," I mutter to myself. I stand up from my cot, feeling my joints creak as I do so. After a quick stretch, I slip my arms through the straps of my armour and open up the tent flap. Sleep is for the weak, after all. Or at least for those whose sins are not forcing them to keep moving.

As I step outside my tent, I'm rushed by a load of small, emaciated figures. I pat their heads, trying to force a smile onto my scarred face. The children surrounding me, both human and demon, do the same, many of them still bearing signs of wounds. Their clothes are tattered and torn, and their skin, where not covered in scales for the demons, are bruised and dirty from our rough living out in the wilderness. They're so thin that I can see every bone beneath their pale bodies. Despite this, they all seem happy to see me.

The other paladins of my order have branded me insane, but I refuse to allow these children suffer the conseqeuences of a war they never asked for. Even if I cannot afford to repair my equipment or eat decently after spending my gold to take care of them, my heart continues to scream that I am doing the right thing. Seeing their faint smiles only confirms that lingering emotion.

After making sure to affectionately pat the head of every child, I turn away from them and begin walking down the long, broken road that leads to the city of Elysium. My little camp here lies a full half-day's travel out from the Golden City's walls, and it took more than a few broken noses to get it set up even this close.

I turn my gaze back towards the golden walls that surround Elysium and the gleaming armour of its sentries. They have all this opulence on display, but not a single shred of kindness to extend to the truly desperate. I grind my teeth together as I march towards Elysium's gate, more than ready to lash out if those pretentious guards annoy me again.

My anger stems not only from the "Holy Capital's" blatant hypocrisy, but also the new orders that were sent to me late last night. Commander Coran desires to talk to me about "taking the first steps towards securing our long-fought-for peace," while also conveniently denying once again my request for actual supplies for the children under my care.