He’d stood sentinel before the shrine for as long as he could remember. It was his purpose, his glorious task. He had kept faith beyond death, though his flesh had rotted away and his armor rusted. He still stood guard and waited.
The party of thieves scoffed when they saw him standing alone on the bridge. “There’s only one skeleton?” Their leader said.
They didn’t know duty, discipline, or honor. But he was happy to demonstrate.
Afterward, he returned to his vigil. Sometimes the shrine would raise intruders to be his companions. He waited to see if they were worthy.

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