When war is the expectation,
Armor is a necessity.
My breastplate is heavy,
and my arms grow tired from the weight of my shield.
The burden of my chainmail is tiresome.
Yet without, how can I live in a world that demands soldiers instead of the compassionate?
I hear arrows,
and I see swords.
I smell blackpowder as cannonballs rain down from above.
The battle is all around.
Allies fight only when their interest is served.
Sadly,
Humanity is never the interest...
While I only have reason to fight,
I wear my armor.
For now,
I bear my own armor.
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