He can’t quite recall the glorious cause that compelled him to rally to the banners, but the mud and blood he remembers. It was amidst a maelstrom of shrapnel and severed limbs that Konstantinos first made his vow.

With his ears beset by a piercing wail and hands trembling before his misting vision, he swore that he would endure this madness and emerge to find meaning in a world irretrievably sundered by the darkest whims of men. Instead, he found solace prowling the lamplit streets, in search of release exchanged for hard currency. It was in plunging headlong into this fleshy escape that fate unspooled a lithe lifeline his way in the frame of Evangelia.

Honour demanded that once he was spent, he made her his bride. No strangers to the basest instincts of god-fearing men, they shared an unlikely bond, and turned their sights upon fields untilled and fortunes left buried. When the call from the syndicate pealed out, they were ready.