Knights of Tezoth

"— Great sorrow it is when the rabble multiply unchecked, while a noble line fades ingloriously from the ailment of the mind they call the black pill," — Ambrose nodded. "Now I must speak with the gods.

Ambrose, clanking in his plate armor, ascends the hill, and the short path somehow seemed very hard to him, though he was young and accustomed to the weight of his harness. Driving his spear into the ground, the knight sat down cross-legged in the Ashan style and turned his gaze northward.
"It smells of blood, of inhuman things, of lust," — said the Djinn.
"There are two plagues — one is mad and contemptible in itself, the other is heartless and proud," — replied Ambrose.
"If there is no head — then there is nothing to behead; no heart — nothing to pierce. You have no such advantages."
Ambrose could not argue. He turned to the east.
"I sense kinship, the past, resolve."
"From blood, blood inherits resolve, if not valor. He who is broken fears not death. In the south, north, and west of Tezoth — I remain ever a son of the East."
"Your knights have scattered; her knights are obedient and ever at her side. She is craftier than your queen, more experienced, more merciless. You abandoned your first homeland. You betrayed your blood — if so, you can betray again."
The Djinn was right again. The knight looked south.
"I sense loyalty. Twisted. Womanly. Strong."
"That is a lying and petty underling, a sheep that puffs up its wool, trying to seem a Lion."
"But the petty underling is trusted no less than your queen. Even in the heart of the kingdom."
There was no point in arguing with a fact. Ambrose looked toward the Sun sinking to the west.
"I see three brilliant men, and each leads a host of vassals and warriors. I see impregnable walls. I hear the sand measuring out the hour of your doom."
"Their petty feud will touch us little. Heavy is their hammer, but short is their reach."
"But their lands are vast, their technologies perfect, their positions strong, and no axe hangs over their heads by a thin thread."
"You are right, evil spirit. The odds here are slim. A spear juts from every corner."
"Your course of action in this wretched situation?"
"I will do what must be done — that is all."
"Then you may yet win. Go on, pray to your pale-haired one; I shall return to help you again."
And the evil spirit fell silent. Ambrose remained alone against all the ends of the earth.
— Let enemies come from everywhere,
We shall overcome in any strife,
Beneath the Sun's light, in the sky's blue,
May I be cursed if I forget my oath,

And doubt our cause for even a moment,
Or place the personal before the sovereign,
Or cowardly preserve my own life,
Abandoning my lady to the enemy's whim.

Kanamia, wondrous foreigner,
The rulers who spared not their lives —
Upon their bones our realm stands,
The foundation is firm with fealty's homage.

From the depths of ages, their gracious gaze
May it bless me, and let not wear me down
Doubt, despair, or cowardice.
Confidence — such is my wisdom.
And my shield is duty, my spear — holy wrath.
And there is no more desperate desire in my soul
Than to bring victory to my lady.

Having said this, Ambrose leaves the hill — and the road down was easy and swift. All that remained was to check the hospital, and as for the rest, Lester had likely already handled it.