The trusty steed

I've been a faithful war horse for a long time now. I remember when I first met this orphan who joined the military after both his parents had died. We had such a connection. We have been on myriads of conquests together. I call him "friend". Others call him milites. Most call him George. I have seen a Lamb on the Paschal festival carrying around a vexilium which depicts the battle cross my friend has painted on his shield. I know that it will be the flag of a grand country some day. I just don't know which one. My friend is humble. Maybe he shall share his battle cross with other saints in protection of that country. Maybe he shall have it depicted on the flags of multiple countries. He deserves it.

I never thought I, such a humble horse, would be the faithful companion to a member of the Roman Praetorian Guard. It is an honoring experience to be obedient not just to an elite military unit but also unto the Emperor himself. The Emperor's royal palace is grand and the food is bountiful. Not a single bit I deserve but the Emperor is my own servant now too, not just I his. I take orders from him but we mutually serve each other. Just as I do for my friend.

Here we are travelling one day. We come across a grand procession. A beautiful woman is being taken out dressed in white! It is a blinding brightness too. But for some reason the mood seems dank and grey. Why does it seem so somber when it looks like this woman is being taken to be married? My friend is wondering the same. The situation does seem quite odd. How is it that these people can doll someone up so cheerfully and splendid and yet be sad at the same time? My friend asks the village chieftan what is going on. The chieftan explains.

There is this dragon that kills everything that it breathes on. It was breathing on all of the lambs. The lambs?!? The lambs that go out and fly the vexilium with my friend's battle cross painted on it? Surely not the lambs! This cannot be! I am quite eager to do something about this.

Apparently, in order to appease the dragon, the villagers have decided to draw lots. They do this so that the dragon's hunger is satiated and that it no longer wants to breathe on the lambs any more. But this means that they are sacrificing humans! Unbelievable! This practice must certainly end!

Well one day, the lot fell upon the chieftan's daughter. The princess is a virgin. She shall not be married if she is eaten first. The chieftan had tried to use his money to bribe the other villagers. What an ugly hack! But it was insisted that the process would not be fair if he did not offer up his daughter as sacrifice to the dragon. So the princess is being married off to the dragon and her matrimonial gift will be death. Oh the Satanic nature of it all! Can you imagine a time where parents of all races are marrying off their daughters to Satan for their sure death? I cannot. Though I am weary that this may happen indeed at some point in the future.

What can we do friend? I ask my friend this question with a longing look in my eyes. He negotiates terms with the chieftan. If the tribe agrees to be baptized and convert to Christianity, he will get rid of the problem. The human sacrifice must end! He takes up his spear and raises his shield with that glorious battle cross on it. He says to me, "We're fighting a dragon!"

Indeed! What danger awaits us! But it's up to us now! We must save the princess and the village from the wrath of this Satanic beast!

He races up to the dragon. I see the dragon about to puff its fiery nose at us. As it lets out a snort, I cut to the side and my friend lunges the spear right into its side! It howls! The fight goes on. The dragon bites back toward us. I leap to the other side. My friend jumps to the ground. The dragon spews out its fiery breath at my friend. No! But it's no good. My friend's shield is raised and the cross protects him from the fiery hell-demon. He raises his sword and plunges it straight down into the heart of the beast, killing the dragon. It lets out one final howl of the utmost vileness and dies.

What an exhausting fight! The princess is saved. My friend marries the wonderful woman and they have so many children including the heroic Guy of Warwick! I wish to say they live happily ever after but I am sadly jotting this all down during the time of the Diocletianic Purge. My friend has already been awarded death by the Emperor whom he once faithfully served. Diocletian has done nothing but create divisions within the Empire. I am getting old now myself and I miss my friend dearly.